


Sucker for the Classics

by nisolex



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, BAMF Stiles, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Coming Out, Derek Hale Has Chest Hair, Dubious Consent, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, I refuse to believe otherwise, I'll add more as I go, Like seriously so bad, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Marijuana, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Pack Bonding, Panic Attacks, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Road Trip, Scott is a Bad Friend, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Spring Break, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:05:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 48,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11953611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nisolex/pseuds/nisolex
Summary: Scott was such a bad friend. Stiles only agreed to go on this stupid "pack bonding" trip so he and Scott could spend some time togehter. And what does Scott do? He invites Allison: and he gives her Stiles' seat in the car. Now Stiles is stuck in the Camaro for a 6 hour car ride with Derek Hale. This is gonna be a long week.**With the show coming to an end, I wanted to write a Sterek fic to take us back to the beginning. This is an ode to the classic Teen Wolf fanfics. It will feature tropes as old as time, and is set sometime around season 3. If nothing else, get ready for some nostalgia, angst, and eventual sexy times.





	1. Swedish Fish

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Sterek fic, so don't expect too much. I'll try to update at least once a week, depending on my schedule. Hope you'll stick around for the ride!

Stiles hated Scott, he really did. His best friend had finally done it. Pushed him to his limits.

This was it. This was the last straw. They’d been piling on for quite a while now – the straws, I mean. And this final blow. This final _straw_. It was going to be the one that broke Stiles’ back.

Scott had turned into the worst best friend ever. And he couldn’t possibly be Scott’s best friend, either. Why, you ask? Because best friends save their best friends seats. They save seats for them. A simple, yet grand gesture of friendship. What they don’t do, however, is invite their time-consuming, seat-taking girlfriends on “pack bonding” trips if they're aren’t enough seats. That’s what they don’t do.

But here he was, climbing into the Camaro, preparing for the most awful, boring, brooding 6-hour car ride with Derek Hale. Who, _by the way_ , has threatened to rip Stiles’ throat out with his teeth on several occasions.

All he wanted was a seat next to Scott: some best-friend time. Was that too much to ask? When Scott invited him on this trip he was thrilled. He wasn’t quite sure if he was considered part of Derek’s pack, but whatever. Stiles hadn’t had a chance to see his friend outside of school for weeks. He was always too busy with Allison. Or worse: Allison, Jackson, and Lydia. But at this point, Stiles would have settled for the hump seat between Jackson and Lydia, if it meant not riding with Derek. But no, Danny’s SUV was packed full with Scott, Allison, Jackson, Lydia, Boyd and Isaac. He would have even ridden with Erica on her motorcycle, but she had a bag strapped down in the space behind her. And because she said she’d rather drive off a cliff than have stiles wrapped around her torso for 6 hours.

It all happened so fast. He was just trying to be a good road tripper. He’d brought all the snacks: Twizzlers, Swedish Fish, white chocolate covered pretzels. He even went inside to pee before they hit the road. But when he came back, they’d abandoned him. No seat for Stiles. Apparently, being considerate only got you one thing: fucked.

Scott was giving him a puppy dog look from the window of Danny’s car but Stiles had no time for it.

He knew that at a glance this seemed ridiculous. It was just a seat. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t just a seat. It was months of slowly being forgotten. Being left out of group texts, canceling plans last minute to hang out with Allison, having pack meetings without Stiles, and sitting at smaller tables at lunch so there just wasn’t room for him.

He was over it. He slammed shut the door to the Camaro and huffed out a breath. This was going to be a long week.

Once Derek had finished loading their bags into the trunk, he climbed in the driver’s seat and paused, looking at Stiles. He was still slouched, arms folded over his chest, leg bouncing nervously.

“What’s wrong with you?” Derek asked. The boy was excited for the trip not ten minutes ago, now he looked like someone had spit in his Crunch Berries.

Stiles felt stupid. Or rather, he felt he was _being_ stupid. He was being Irrational. Immature. He wanted it to end.

“Nothing,” he said flatly, “let’s just drive.” He didn’t dare to look at Derek. He didn’t _dare_ make himself feel even more like a child. “And I’m definitely picking the music,” he added lightly. He hoped to make himself seem less upset. He was good at that, lying to people about how he really felt. But Derek was a werewolf. And an alpha werewolf, at that.

Derek said nothing. He did nothing. Just stared at the boy. They sat in silence for the longest minute of Stiles’ young life, until he finally caved and looked up at the man.

Stiles was an observant person. He noticed things. He could look at a person and Sherlock Holmes the hell out of them. And as bad and broody as Derek was, he was no exception. He could be read like anyone else. His dark brows were furrowed in concern, almost like _he_ was the one upset. His eyes searched Stiles’ questioningly. But there was more: Derek also looked different. He was dressed differently than usual. He looked… casual, Stiles decided. He wore plain, fitted jeans, a blue V-neck shirt, and a baseball cap with sunglasses perched on top of the bill. He looked like a real person. No leather jacket, no constipated scowl. Just your average guy, about to spend a week on the beach with his friends. Underneath the concerned look for Stiles, he even looked a little happy.

It hit Stiles like a train.

Scott had said the whole trip was Derek’s idea. He had heard Erica telling Boyd and Isaac that she’d never seen Derek happier. It pieced together instantly in Stiles’ mind. This was the first time in a long time their lives hadn’t been all ‘Buffy meets Sam and Dean.’ There were no monsters. No one trying to kill them. No one was dying. Derek finally had a chance to be a real alpha. To get his pack together and do something nice for them. Probably the way his family used to do before the fire. Stiles hated himself even more for potentially ruining it.

“You smell like… hurt,” Derek said slowly. Danny and the others were pulling out of the drive but Derek hadn’t even started the car. He moved a little closer to Stiles, getting a better scent. Stiles just sat there, accepting the inevitable.

“No, its different,” Derek continued, “You smell like betrayal. And anxiety. Even more than what’s normal for you.”

Stiles scoffed at that, his eyes were locked forward, staring through the windshield, wishing he were anywhere but here. He hated that werewolves could tear him apart like that. He hated always being vulnerable. Everyone else in the pack got to run around with their emotions bottled up inside them and no one was the wiser. But Stiles? Nope. He couldn’t even have a bad day without it being everyone’s business.

“You make a habit out of smelling me, sourwolf?” He said sarcastically, tears stinging his eyes. He wasn’t going to cry. Not here. Not in front of Derek Hale.

“Stiles, you’re pack. Your scent is important to me. And like it or not, your problem’s are the pack’s problems.”

“No your pack _is_ my problem!” He didn’t mean to shout at Derek. But damn, he was pissed, and frustrated, and he hated himself for being pissed and frustrated.

Derek’s eyes flashed red at the thought of anyone talking badly about his pack. But this was Stiles, and Derek calmed himself quickly, reminding himself that the boy wasn't a threat.

“Derek, can we please just drive?” Stiles asked quietly.

“Tell me what’s wrong or we’re not leaving the driveway” he said simply.

“I’ll tell you once the car starts moving,” Stiles said back.

After another very long pause, Derek let out a sigh and turned the key in the ignition. Once they got on the highway, Derek asked him if he was ready to talk about it. Stiles didn’t say anything; he only reached into the back seat and began rummaging through his backpack. He pulled out a black aux cord and a bag of Swedish Fish. Once his phone was connected and he’d opened the Swedish Fish, he took a deep breath.

“Those were mine and Laura’s favorite candy growing up,” Derek said passingly. Stiles silently held the bag out to Derek who took one with a small smile. “We used to dump them in this kiddie pool we had, and we’d shift into our beta forms and catch them with our mouths, pretend they were wriggling around.”

Stiles didn’t know why, but he was really glad Derek told him that. It was rare to learn anything about Derek’s personal life, let alone his family.

He plopped a Swedish fish into his mouth, chomped it a couple times and looked at Derek.

“I don’t think I have any friends.”

 

 

 


	2. To Zion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things take an unexpected turn for Stiles as he finds that Derek may not be such a bad guy after all. Stiles gets some good advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone's kind words and positive reactions to this fic, I decided to finish chapter two and post it today! You guys are awesome. Enjoy!

It hurt Derek to hear Stiles say that.

He didn’t know the kid all that well. Sure, they’d saved each other’s lives once or twice, but that was it. Derek knew that Stiles didn’t like him. Stiles didn’t like anyone who inconvenienced him or his friends. He was loyal to a fault. Such a fault, that it had come back to bite him in the ass.

His friends had taken that loyalty for granted. They’d expected that he’d always be there, so they never thought twice about treating him poorly. What hurt Derek the most was that this was his _pack_ that Stiles was talking about. He doubted they were doing it intentionally, or even consciously. But that’s not what Stiles needed to hear right now.

So Derek let him talk, and the kid had a lot to say. He told him everything. About the parties they forgot to invite him to, the time that Scott, Jackson, Lydia, and Allison switched to a smaller lunch table and Stiles ate alone, how Stiles thought things were getting better when Scott invited him on this trip, and, well… Derek knew the rest.

They’d made their way through the bag of fish and next opted for the pretzels. Derek had never eaten white chocolate covered pretzels. Stiles informed him they're not only the essential road trip snack; they're also his personal favorite type of pretzel. His mood was improving, slowly but surely. As long as they kept the topics light, and didn’t linger too much on how Stiles’ friends had hurt him. Derek was going to have to do something about this. This was his trip. His idea. Teenagers could be such dicks. Why on earth did he ever gather 9 of them together for a week at his family’s beach house?

 

***

 

After a couple hours in the car, Stiles was starting to feel self-conscious. In more ways than one. He was much more stable now, but he felt bad for getting so upset. He felt dumb for spilling all of his troubles, and to _Derek Hale_ no less. But Stiles had to admit, the guy was okay company. No threats of injury or bodily harm. He wondered briefly if this is what Derek used to be like. Before the fire. Before he lost almost all of his family in a single day. Stiles could only imagine what it would have been like losing both his parents…

“What is this?” Derek asked, snapping Stiles from his train of thought. He looked to see Derek motioning vaguely to the stereo.

“Wait, seriously?” Stiles asked incredulously. He may or may not have been giggling at Derek’s clear lack of pop culture knowledge. “Dude, it’s Lauryn Hill. The queen of 90s Hip Hop and R&B!”

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy teasing Derek sometimes.

But Derek only smirked. “Stiles, everyone knows Erykah Badu is the queen of the 90s Hip Hop and R&B. _Baduizm_ was far superior to _The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill_. And if we throw both of Aaliyah’s top charted albums from the decade into the mix, then it’s no competition.”

Stiles was speechless. Derek wasn’t supposed to know things about music. Brooding? Yes.

Eyebrow sass? Yes.

Threats, beating up bad guys, and biting teenagers? Yes.

But music? No way…

Stiles wanted to ask a hundred questions. Instead, he asked a rather obvious one. “You like music??”

Derek rolled his eyes and let out a short chuckle. “Of course I like music, Stiles. Everyone likes music.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, “but not everyone likes _good_ music. I’m the only one I know who listens to 90s stuff.”

“Stiles. You forget. I’m _from_ the 90s,” Derek said pointedly.

“Hey! I’m from the 90s!” Stiles objected.

Derek laughed again. And damn if that wasn’t something Stiles could get used to. “You were born in 1995,” the older man said. “You were barely potty trained when these albums came out. I lived in a house with teenage Laura and Peter listening to this stuff. They largely influenced my taste in music.”

Stiles thought for a moment. His face was doing that thing it does when he’s trying to figure something out. Pink lips forming an “O”, eyes scanning, eyebrows shifting. “So you _weren’t?_ A teenager in the 90s?” He asked Derek slowly.

Derek was shook. How old did this goofball think he was?

“How old do you think I am?!” He all-but-squealed.

“I don’t know, Derek, that’s why I asked you.” Stiles feigned innocence, as tho he had no clue whatsoever about the age of the alpha. No guestimates, no ranges. Derek could be 20 or he could be 42, how could Stiles possibly know?

Cheeky little shit.

“I was born in 1988,” Derek said simply.

Stiles eyes went wide. If Derek noticed his initial shock, he didn’t comment on it. “Holy shit, dude. You’re old.”

Aaaaaaand there was the scowl Stiles had grown accustomed to.

“You’re like. Really old,” the boy continued. “You’re old enough to be my dad.”

Derek huffed out a breath and looked at stiles incredulously. “Stiles, that doesn’t even make any sense. You know how to do math, you’re being dumb.”

Stiles was _really_ getting a kick out of this. He was using nearly all his efforts to silence his laughter. His face was turning red.

So was Derek’s, but that only made Stiles laugh harder.

“Hey, what was it like when half your classmates got Polio?” Man. Stiles cracked himself **up**. He couldn’t even get through the joke before he was laughing some more.

Okay, even Derek might have giggled at that one. But he did so reluctantly. And with an eye roll.

“Alright,” Stiles said after he finally caught his breath. He put his hands up in mock defense and let out the last few chuckles. “I digress. But seriously, you’re what? 23? 24?

“I’m 23,” Derek said through gritted teeth.

“Is that why you have all that awesome chest hair?” Stiles heard himself ask.

Damn. Did he say that out loud?

He really didn’t mean for that thought to make it out of his head. Derek looked over at him with a quirked brow. Now he was the one who was amused.

“Do you make a habit of looking at my chest hair, Mieczyslaw? He said with a grin.

No fucking way did Scott tell Derek what his real name was. He tucked that grudge away in the back of his mind for safekeeping. He had more pressing issues to deal with.

For starters, he was embarrassed. No. _Mortified_. Because, yeah, he may have made a habit of looking at Derek’s chest hair. It was pretty easy to see, especially with the v-neck he was wearing. In his defense, he looked at everyone. Not like, in a creepy way or anything. He was observant. Objective. He admired the beauty in all different kinds of people. There just happened to be a lot of beauty in Derek. And what the hell was he talking about?? He thought Derek Hale was beautiful??

_Get a grip, Stiles,_ he thought to himself. He really needed to lay off the Adderall.

Derek was still looking at him expectantly. Like he was actually going to dignify that question with a response…

“Like I’m going to dignify that question with a response…” He said awkwardly.

“I’ll take that as ‘not a no,’” Derek said cheekily. And seriously? When did Derek Hale become funny? Was this some sort of setup? Was he being Punk’d?

Derek was still smiling. It was a real, genuine, wrinkles-at-the-corners-of-your-eyes, smile. It looked good on him. While he could he scowl like nobody’s business, he could apparently smile too. Who knew?

“Okay,” Stiles said. “You’ve had your fun, I’m going to go crawl in a hole and die now.” He turned up the radio a bit. Anything to help him avoid further conversation with Derek.

“Relax, bud,” Derek said. He clasped his hand over Stiles’ shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’m just giving you a hard time. Anyway, we’ll be at the house in just a few minutes.”

Stiles nodded, and laughed it off. He wasn’t certain if he imagined Derek’s hand lingering a bit too long, but either way he ignored it. The last thing he needed on this stupid trip was a stupid crush on stupid Derek. Who, _by the way_ , was a male. A man. A guy? Yeah, Stiles liked guy; he settled on guy. But Stiles didn’t get crushes on guys! He got crushes on Lydia Martin, and Ms. Morrell, the stupid hot guidance counselor. Who, now that he thought about it, probably didn’t even have a degree in guidance. Or counseling.

It was probably just hormones? That was it! Yep. Those good old teenage hormones he’d heard so much about. It was probably nothing to--“

“--Stiles? You okay?” It was Derek.

Oh. Of course it was Derek, he was the only other person in the car.

“You reek of panic. What happened?

There was no time to think of a lie, he’d have to wing it. “Oh. Right, no nothing serious. You said we were getting close, and it made me freak out for a second because I wondered if I left my phone charger at home, but then I remembered that even if I did, Lydia always brings two chargers everywhere she goes so even if I did forget mine, she would have an extra.”

It all came out very quickly. He hoped that by combining the truth about Lydia’s chargers with his lie about why he was panicking, the whole thing would be too unreadable for Derek to detect the lie in his heartbeat. Derek simply nodded, so it seemed he was off the hook for now, but he wanted to move the conversation forward just to be sure.

They pulled up the long drive to where Danny’s Escalade was parked. Surrounding it were the rest of their pack, stretching like they’d just gotten out of the car. The back hatch was open and Jackson was starting to unload their bags. Derek threw the Camaro in park and they sat there in silence for a moment, watching their packmates. To be frank, the house was gigantic. It had a wraparound porch on both levels, and the faded white paint seemed to fit perfectly with the spring beach that enveloped it. Stiles grimaced at Scott, who was making out with Allison against the front of the SUV.

“Nice house,” Stiles piped up, breaking the silence in the car.

“Thanks,” Derek said. He was quieter now, and Stiles could only imagine the memories that were flooding back into Derek’s mind from the corners they’d been pushed into.

“Hey Derek?’ Stiles asked.

Derek grunted in acknowledgement, neither of their eyes leaving the scene in front of them.

“What should I do about Scott?”

It was definitely a loaded question, and one that Derek had anticipated. But in the six hours they were in the car, he could only come up with one answer. “Your friends are still your friends, Stiles. Just remind them why you became friends in the first place. Be yourself.”

Stiles nodded appreciatively. That was actually pretty sound advice. He could do that. He’d been a pro at being himself for all of his life. He thanked Derek for the advice and climbed out of the car.

“Hey, Stiles!” Isaac said excitedly. Stiles had no beef with Isaac Lahey, the guy had enough of his own problems to cause more for anyone else. He’d always been kind to Stiles. He said hi back, and everyone began exchanging hellos, telling some brief stories from their drive up.

Scott finally removed himself from Allison’s trachea, and walked over to Stiles, putting his arm around him affectionately. He had that goofy grin on his face. He really was oblivious. “Hey buddy,” Scott said cheerily. “No hard feelings, right?”

Stiles considered this for a moment, his lips pursed in contemplation.

Then, he punched Scott as hard as he could, right in his crooked jaw.

Scott fell backward onto the ground, and various gasps and expletives rang out from the group of teenagers. Except for Jackson, who gave Stiles a compliment for the first time ever.

“Nope!” Stiles said smiling. “We’re all good now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys thought. More to come this weekend!


	3. Epiphany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek lays down some ground rules as everyone gets settled into the house. Stiles has an epiphany.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys continue to blow me away with your kind words. Hope you enjoy!

When Stiles climbed out of the Camaro, Derek breathed a sigh of relief.

What was he going to do? On one hand, he felt obligated – no, more than obligated – to take the defensive. There’s no way his pack could do something like this to Stiles. Despite his human standing, he’d saved their asses more than a few times. But on the other hand, it didn’t really matter if they were doing it on purpose or not. Stiles wasn’t lying when he told Derek how he was feeling; his heartbeat didn’t waver at all. Perception is reality, and the kid was hurt. His own pack hurt Stiles. And that didn’t set well with Derek. At all.

He climbed out of the car and popped the trunk, grabbing his bag as well as Stiles’ and – _fuck_.

The grinding of bone was a sound that never failed to permeate Derek’s selective hearing. Like how you can hear someone calling your name in the middle of a crowded room. Probably some innate survival instinct.

He darted around from the back of the Camaro and was surprised to see that it was Scott lying on his back, Allison perched down next to him. Stiles stood above Scott with a wry smile and said “Nope! We’re all good now.” And man, Derek wished he’d heard the first part of the conversation because Jackson was congratulating Stiles on his right hook, Lydia was looking impressed, and nothing made sense anymore. Stiles looked back at Derek and gave him a quick wink.

_Fan. Freakin. Tastic. I’ve created a monster._

He walked over to the group of teens, and everyone looked guilty. Like they were all about to be in trouble. Everyone except Scott and Stiles. Scott was still disoriented, and sucked in breath as he snapped his jaw back into place. Stiles looked smug as ever.

“Look,” Derek said, doing his best to sound authoritative. “This week is about bonding. _Pack_ bonding. Like it or not, you are all involved with this pack in some way, shape, or form. So whatever has been going on with some of you, whatever _problems_ you may have with each other, consider them over. Done. Finished.”

If his eyes flashed red for a small moment as he looked at Scott, it was a complete coincidence. “Now,” he continued. “There are plenty of bedrooms, but some of you will have to share. Mine is the first room upstairs on the left and it is off limits. You can figure out the rest. My only rule is that couples cannot room together. I promised I’d look after you this week, and I don’t think anyone’s parents would be too happy with a grandchild before their children graduate high school.”

A few members of the group gave small groans of acknowledgement.

“Does anyone have any questions?”

“Is your room off limits to me, big bad?” Erica asked coyly.

That earned a laugh from everyone. Derek just rolled his eyes, even if he thought it was a little funny. “Go. Get settled. Pick out your rooms before I change my mind about this whole week.”

The group gathered their bags and began walking up to the house. Derek saw Scott and Stiles walking together and huffed out a breath. Maybe the week was going to be okay after all. He knew he was being reckless. He was practically choking on Stiles’ scent in the car. The kid had a crush, and Derek was mocking him for it. What was Derek thinking, scent marking him? He told himself that he let his hand linger too long for confirmation. A test, to see how stiles reacted. And he was right. Stiles body reacted with arousal. No big deal. Derek remembered being a teenager It seemed like he was horny 90% of the time. He chalked it up to that. But his wolf was another story. He hated how hard it was to reel the wolf back in after it smelled Stiles, both of their scents mixed together. It was harder than it had ever been with anyone else. The passenger door to the SUV slammed shut and it snapped Derek back to attention. He looked over to see Lydia. He hadn’t realized she was still around.

She gave him a strange look. Her green eyes could see everything, and Derek felt like he was under a microscope. He didn’t like it. At all.

Her look was calculating. She glanced from Derek, to the backs of Scott and Stiles as they followed the others through the front door. Her eyebrow quirked and her red lips formed a grin. She glanced back to Derek, almost _knowingly_. She made a small “hm” noise as she picked up her bag and made her way to follow the others inside.

This really _was_ going to be a long week.

  
***

Despite being one of the last ones in the house, Stiles managed to get a decent room on the second floor. The balcony even faced directly at the ocean. Scott’s room was right across the hall, and Jackson’s room was downstairs in the opposite corner of the house, so really he couldn’t have picked better. There was a path that led from the back of the house right to the beach, and from what Stiles could tell, they weren’t in a very touristy location. _This place just gets better and better,_ he thought.

He went back inside and began unpacking, moving his clothes from the suitcase to the dresser. He went to put his suitcase in the closet, but when he opened the door, he realized the closet wasn’t a closet. It was a bathroom. A bathroom that connected his room to the room next door. And from the way Derek was in that room, unpacking his suitcase, Stiles could safely assume that he would be sharing this bathroom with Derek.

_Great._

He wondered if this was going to be a problem. The broody alpha had specifically mentioned that his room was off limits. He realized it was probably weird how he was just standing there in the doorway to the bathroom, watching Derek like a deer in headlights. But instead of any type of intelligent sentence, all Stiles said was, “Oh.”

Derek looked at him questioningly. “Oh?” He said back.

“I just. I thought this was a closet,” He stammered out awkwardly. Why was he suddenly so nervous? He just spent 6 hours in a car with the man, for Christ’s sake. Granted, in that car ride he realized he found Derek attractive, and he also found out that Derek was a guy. Well, he already knew that Derek was a guy. But it certainly didn’t help the matter! Derek probably thought he was even weirder than before. Dumb, awkward Stiles, who everyone was always stuck with, who’s now sharing a bathroom with you on this week long trip from Hell, and –

“Stiles, you haven’t said anything in like a whole minute,” Derek said flatly.

On second thought, Hell was sounding pretty good right about now.

“Right. Sorry,” Stiles said. “Is this okay? That our rooms are connected, I mean? You said your room was off limits and I don’t want to be _that_ person, ya know?”

Derek smiled again and Stiles tried not to melt. Onto the floor. Of the bathroom. That he shared with Derek.

In his mind raced images of Derek Hale with bedhead, brushing his teeth in the morning, without a shirt on, pajama pants hanging low on his waist and _holy fuck_ was he in trouble.

“You’re never gonna be _that person_ , Stiles. It’s fine. And besides, you’re in Cora’s old room, not _my_ room,” he said. “You aren’t breaking any rules.”

Stiles nodded, and let that be the end of it. “Cool,” he said simply. He walked back into his room and shut the door to the not-closet. He grabbed something from his bag and headed downstairs.

He made his way into the foyer, past the kitchen, through the family room, and into the only bedroom located on the first floor. Jackson and Danny were talking about finding some club nearby when Stiles barged in.

“Can I help you, Stilinski?” Jackson asked rudely.

“I need to talk to Danny,” Stiles answered.

Danny looked at him questioningly. “Uh. About what?” He asked. He and Stiles had never really talked, save for the few times in class Stiles asked him about homework, or whether gay guys found him attractive.

“Alone,” Stiles added, looking for Jackson to leave.

“You're not kicking me out of my own room, Stilinski. Get a grip,” the blonde said.

Stiles had anticipated this reaction. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a flask, tossing it to Jackson. “It’s whiskey infused with wolfsbane. Unlike regular alcohol, this will actually get you drunk,” Stiles said. “And it’s strong, so please drink responsibly,” he added.

Jackson seemed impressed. He nodded appreciatively and walked out of the room, taking a pull from the flask before he was even out the door.

Stiles closed the door and turned to Danny, who was looking seriously weirded out.

“Okay Stiles, what did you want to talk to me about? I’m seriously weirded out,” he said.

Stiles wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted to say. So, he just said it.

“How did you know you liked guys?”

The room fell quiet for what seemed like an eternity.

“Ah man,” Danny finally said. “I owe Lydia 20 bucks.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit harder to write because I'm still not 100% sure the direction this fic is headed. But I wanted to give you guys a little something to hold you over until I figure it out. Let me know what you think, and as always - Thanks for reading! =]


	4. Let's Go Mets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Lydia have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one so I hope you all enjoy!

As it turns out, Danny wasn’t much help.

He gave Stiles some spiel about how everyone is different and people come to terms with their sexuality at different stages in their life. And Stiles really couldn’t care less because none of that was of use to him. Stiles left after Danny got defensive, saying that he wasn’t going to be Stiles’ personal guru on sexual orientation, and it was offensive that he even expected him to be.

Really, Stiles just wanted someone to talk to, and he figured Danny was one of the few people here whose relationship with Stiles hadn’t changed in the past few months. The fact that Danny was gay was just a bonus. But apparently, Stiles even managed to annoy people he was trying to confide in.

_Great._

It was mid afternoon now, and Stiles wanted to get away from everyone. Maybe if he wasn’t around, he couldn’t get on anyone’s nerves. After walking around the outside of the Hale property, he decided to go down to the beach.

He grabbed his Mets hat and flipped it around backwards so his neck wouldn’t burn. His pale complexion was no match for the California sun, even in early April.

The boardwalk that led from the back of the Hale’s yard to the beach was old. Nails and splinters jutted out in places where boards once met seamlessly. Stiles did his best to keep his bare feet out of harms way. Once he finally got to the beach, he reveled in the warm sand as it squished into his toes. The waves weren’t that big but the strong winds caused riptides nearly everywhere.

Stiles, more than anything, loved the _smell_ of the ocean. It was hard to describe. A container of salt didn’t have a smell, but the ocean smelled like salt. Salt, and rock that had been wet for too long.

He heard some giggling and a group of girls in bathing suits walked by him. He nodded politely and said hello. One girl in particular, a blonde girl in the back, lifted up her sunglasses and gave Stiles the up-down. He was suddenly self-conscious.

Maybe he should have kept his shirt on?

Before the girls got too far away, the blonde winked at stiles and he could feel his torso flush with embarrassment.

Instead of doing anything within the realm of normal, he gave an awkward wave and stammered out “Uh- Goodbye!”

They giggled again and continued on their walk. _At least someone looks twice at me._ He thought bitterly.

He wasn’t usually like this. He was Stiles; he couldn’t give a crap less about what anyone else thought of him. He knew everyone at his school thought he was weird. But he never cared. He never cared because he liked himself, and he always had his friends. But that’s the problem now, isn’t it? He didn’t know if he still had his friends.

The thought alone made him want to cry. How could he be on a trip with 10 people he knows better than anyone, and feel more alone than ever? He hated it. He hated all of it. He hated that Scott let this happen to them. He was happy for Scott. And that confused him more. He was happy that his awkward, asthmatic, C-average friend was stronger and faster than ever. He was happy his best friend found the girl of his dreams, made lacrosse captain, and became a freakin creature of the night.

He was happy for Scott. Or at least he wanted to be.

There was no rule saying that Scott had to drop Stiles to pickup Allison. This wasn’t Halo! He could carry multiple things at a time!

He felt like he had no one. His dad worked all the time. Scott was, well, you know.

He knew what this was. Knew what it was coming down to. The sinking feeling that started in the back of the throat and drew your stomach into your ribcage. Longing.

He missed his mom.

 

***

Derek finished putting his clothes away shortly after Stiles closed the bathroom door. The kid was acting weirder than usual. He had just spent the entire morning in a car with him, and as soon as they arrive, he punches out Scott, and now he’s avoiding Derek.

_Great job as Alpha, Derek._

There was something more pressing in his mind than Stiles’ odd behavior. It was the girl. Lydia. The Banshee. Derek had seen them before. His mother knew one very well. They always knew more than they realized, and they _always_ knew more than they let on.

He made his way downstairs. He’d lost track of Stiles, but he knew the boy had come down here not that long ago. He heard a group of voices out on the back patio and went to investigate. Sure enough, everyone was there. They had brought a Bluetooth speaker outside and they appeared to be having fun.

“Derekkkkkk!” Scott shouted, when he saw him peering through the sliding porch door.

Derek sighed and made his way out. Scott ran up to hug him and Derek practically choked on the stench of alcohol coming off of his beta. He scrunched up his nose and snatched the red solo cup out of Scott’s hand, who pouted in response.

“Is this wolfbane?! Are you insane??” Derek practically yelled. Everyone sort of stopped what they were doing and looked to Derek. If this were 1990, the record would have skipped.

It was Jackson who spoke up this time. “Relax, Derek. Seriously. Your boy Stiles gave it to me. It’s whiskey with wolfsbane in it. It lets us get drunk. You should have some, dude,” Jackson said.

Derek was always kind of resisting the urge to punch Jackson Whitmore in the face, but this took a whole new level of resistance.

“I know what it is, you idiot!” Derek snapped. “I also know how dangerous it is. One ounce, no, one _gram_ too much of wolfsbane in this mixture and you can die from this stuff!”

He took the flask from Jackson and placed it in his own back pocket. “Guys, I’m not your parent,” Derek started. “And I don’t care if everyone else drinks, but this was a dangerous move. You should have come to me first, I would have gladly inspected it to make sure it was safe.”

“Yeah, I already did that,” Lydia said smugly. Her pursed red lips and raised brow really formed a signature look for the ginger-haired girl.

Derek chuckled darkly. He actually let out a small laugh at the absurdity of this situation. Who did this girl think she _was_. Better yet? Who did this girl think she was _talking to_. Derek was never the type to be a totalitarian, ‘my way or the highway,’ type of leader. He was an alpha. His pack was his life. And he pretty much let his pack do as they pleased. That is, as long as they weren’t endangering themselves or others.

But this? This shit right here?

This wasn’t gonna fly.

He looked around at the group of teenagers and realized Stiles wasn’t with everyone else. He listened for a heartbeat in the house and heard nothing. Where was he?

“Has anyone seen Stiles?” He huffed out.

Everyone looked around the group, as if they just expected him to be there. Stiles was right, they really just forgot about him sometimes. It made Derek sick.

“I would have thought _you’d_ know where he was?” Said Lydia innocently. Derek was about to rip her a new one when the strangest thing happened. She winked. And cocked her head in the direction of the beach.

He looked out, unable to see the beach through the overgrown sea oats. But he listened more closely and heard the distinct heartbeat of Stiles. He felt a wave of relief wash over him. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and looked back at Lydia. He knew exactly what to do.

“Lydia and I are going to the store,” he said. Lydia narrowed her eyes at the man and smirked. Even she could admit she liked his tactics. Even she didn’t dare defy the direct order of her alpha. “We need groceries for the week,” Derek continued, “and a few supplies: toilet paper, cleaning supplies, propane for the grill, etc. Does anyone want anything specific?”

The group rattled off various snacks and items they wanted. Allison said she had forgot sunscreen, and Scott wanted – no – _needed,_ fruit loops with marshmallows. Erica needed D batteries for her Bluetooth speaker. He made a mental note of everyone’s requests and looked at Lydia expectantly. She made a scene of kissing Jackson goodbye and made her way into the house, her eyes not leaving Derek’s until she was back indoors. The girl was fierce, even he could admit that. He took one last glance at the beach before he followed Lydia inside.

 

***

 

Lydia hummed quietly to herself as she touched up her makeup in the bathroom mirror. She’d let her hair down and put on a shirt that covered more than her bikini, because strangers didn’t get that show for free. She grabbed her purse and made her way back downstairs. Derek’s keys were no longer on the kitchen counter, so she assumed he was waiting in the car. And, as always, she assumed correctly.

She’d always found Derek to be attractive, broody and mysterious in a way Jackson could never hope to pull off. As she climbed in the passenger seat of the Camaro, she could only describe her alpha’s mood as, yep. You guessed it. Broody.

“Now, now, Derek,” she said, putting on more lip-gloss in the passenger mirror. “No need to bottle all your emotions inside. Tell Lydia what’s wrong.”

Lydia wasn’t dumb. Quite the opposite, really. She knew, and Derek knew, that she knew more than she was letting on. But Lydia liked to play games. Lydia liked to play with people. Lydia wanted Derek to tell _her_ what was going on between him and Stiles, not the other way around.

“God dammit, Lydia. I’m done with the games. I’m done with the smirks, and the side eye. I’m done playing around!” Derek all-but-shouted.

That took Lydia down a couple notches. She’d expected a few reactions from Derek, but this? This was not on the top of the list.

After a pause, he let out a breath and lowered his voice a few decibels. “Are you friends with Stiles?” He asked her simply.

The question took Lydia by surprise. Wasn’t that obvious? Of course she was friends with Stiles. Everyone was friends with Stiles? She furrowed her brow and slowly formed the words she was almost afraid to say.

“Of course?” She replied.

“I thought so too,” Derek said. “But do you know what Stiles told me on the car ride up here? He said that he didn’t know if he had any friends. He said that since Scott started dating Allison, and all of you started hanging out all the time without him, he felt like you guys had actually forgotten about him. Abandoned him. He was nearly in tears, Lydia!”

It wasn’t very often that Lydia was blind-sided; the girl had an IQ of 170, for crying out loud. But this was not something she saw coming. She wondered how the Hell she could have missed this. She knew Stiles had drifted apart from them recently, but she didn’t realize any of this. Derek finished telling her the specifics that Stiles had mentioned and her mind raked over every detail. She had been negligent; she could see that now. She’d made the mistake of letting Scott handle Stiles’ invitations to everything. She assumed he would tell his best friend about the parties. When she didn’t see him there, she chalked it up to “parties weren’t his thing,” or attributed it to his social anxiety.

Derek started to interrupt her thinking and she silenced him with an index finger.

The group chats, Lydia hadn’t even realized that Stiles wasn’t in them. She hated that she’d been so caught up in her own business that she didn’t notice when he wasn’t around. No matter how annoying she found the guy, she did still like him.

She liked that he was one of the few people who saw through her act. She liked that he was almost as smart as her. He was ranked second in their class. She liked that he didn’t care what people thought about him, and that he always did his own thing. He dressed however he wanted, he said whatever came to his mind, he didn’t take any shit from anyone.

Dare she say… she even envied him?

She inhaled a deep breath and released it into the silence of the car. She had messed up, but she couldn’t forget about Derek. She couldn’t let him act like he had no faults of his own.

“Okay,” she said simply. “You’re right. I’ll figure out the Stiles thing. I’ll fix it. Get the others to-“

“-You can’t just tell them to be nicer to him!” Derek interjected.

She looked at him densely. “Yeah. No shit, Derek. And what about _you_ ,” she said pointedly. “You’re really going to act like we’ve been the only ones keeping things from Stiles when you haven’t even told him that he’s-“

In an instant, Derek’s hand grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, closer to his face. His claws were extended, probably threatening to puncture her skin at any moment. His eyes glowed red, and while he had effectively shut her up, Lydia never let her guard down. Her face was harder than ever, jaw tightened, her fierce green eyes never leaving Derek’s red ones.

Soon after he had reacted, he realized his mistake and let go of Lydia’s arm like it was burning him.

His surprise was evident as Lydia smoothed out her outfit and apologized. “I’m not one to back down easily,” she said. “I sometimes forget that challenging an alpha in any way evokes an almost uncontrollable reflex.”

“No, it’s my fault,” Derek said. He looked embarrassed. “I’m trying to get better about controlling the wolf, especially around you guys. I’m trying to get better about being a better alpha, in general.”

“How long have you known?” He asked. “You know, about Stiles being…”

“I’ve suspected it for a little over a year. I hadn’t been certain until this morning.” She had a way of speaking that made the heaviest words seem like the lightest.

They’d been parked at the grocery store for a few minutes now, but neither of them seemed ready to head inside. After a moment of silence, she spoke again. “Stiles wasn’t around when you asked everyone what they wanted from the store. I know what he likes,” she said, undoing her seatbelt and exiting the car.

Derek followed suit, it was hard to keep up with the girl sometimes. “And how exactly do you know what Stiles likes?” He asked.

She grabbed a cart from the returned pile and looked back with a wicked grin.

“I’ve known Stiles Stilinski since the third grade. I know more about him than he even realizes. He’s a sucker for the classics.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't entirely pleased with this chapter, but I've done all I can do with it without rewriting it entirely. Yay for Lydia's POV! She's one of my all-time favorite characters, and I loved bringing her more into the fic.


	5. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

The Camaro pulled up into the driveway of the Hale’s beachfront property. Derek and Lydia had returned from the supermarket with enough food and supplies to satiate a small army. While that wasn’t far off from a pack of teenage werewolves, the sentiment remained that Lydia over-purchased.

“So, about Stiles…?” Derek said uncertainly, as he put the Camaro in park. He looked to Lydia expectantly, hoping she would finish his sentence.

Lydia folded down the passenger mirror and reapplied her lipstick. “Just treat him like normal. I’ll deal with the others,” she said simply, exiting the passenger door and closing it firmly behind her.

Derek let out a deep sigh. _Yep. This is going to be a long week._

The group was almost exactly how he left them. The back patio was littered with red solo cups, discarded t shirts, beach towels, and all of the deck furniture was rearranged. It didn’t seem to phase the pack, however. They were partying on like it was 1999. After 15 minutes of demanding, nagging, begging, and pleading with his betas, Derek finally convinced them to help unload the groceries from the car and put them in their proper place in the kitchen.

It made Derek’s stomach a bit uneasy that Stiles was still nowhere to be found. He subtly made his way upstairs and eventually found stiles on the second floor balcony, just outside his bedroom. He was unphased as Derek came out, closing the sliding glass doors behind him. Stiles didn’t say a word as the alpha followed suit, leaning against the bannister, looking out at the ocean.

“How come you’re not with the others?” Derek finally asked. He felt stupid asking, though he wasn’t sure why.

“They didn’t even notice I was missing, Derek,” Stiles said flatly. “Until you asked them to help with groceries, they hadn’t left the back porch, and not a single one of them wondered where I was.” His words were distant and clinical, his voice strained.

Derek didn’t really know what to say. It must be a shitty feeling, being completely forgotten. He couldn’t even imagine. He’d grown up in a house with 13 people and none of the adults ever forgot about or lacked an interest in him. Right now, he almost _hated_ his pack. How could they not see what he saw in Stiles? The guy was brilliant. He was loyal, driven, and though he’d never admit it: Stiles was the funniest person he knew. And all Derek wanted to do was tell him that. He wanted so badly to tell Stiles all of those things, but he couldn’t. And he didn’t want to think about why. So instead, he said something else.

“Sometimes I forget you're only a teenager.”

Stiles cocked his head to the side. “Huh?” He asked.   
“You and Lydia both,” Derek continued. “You’re so much more mature than the others. You’re…”

Stiles looked over at Derek. “I’m what?” he asked simply.

He held eye contact with the teen for longer than he intended. “You’re different.”

Stiles couldn’t hold the eye contact any longer and broke down laughing. This made Derek chuckle as well. “I’m _different,_ says the sourwolf,” Stiles said between chuckles. “What does that even mean?”

“Just take the compliment,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. “I came out here to ask if you would help with dinner. It’s come to my attention that you like to cook, and I thought since you weren’t having the best day…”

Stiles smiled, and it made Derek’s heart melt. He was glad Stiles didn’t have werewolf senses or he would have called Derek on his inappropriate crush ages ago. Who was he kidding? He liked the kid. A lot. He was totally screwed.

“How did you know I liked to cook?” Stiles asked. He seemed genuinely curious. “No one knows I like to cook. Not even Scott knows I like to cook. And I know you didn’t talk to my dad. Oh _god_. Did you? Did you call my dad!? What, and tell him that I’m not having fun on this trip?? I’m not 9 years old, Derek I-“

“-Stiles! Relax, I didn’t call your dad,” Derek interrupted. “I told you, your friends are still your friends. And at least one of them knows you better than you think.”

Stiles seemed to consider this for a moment, before letting out a soft _hm._ “Alright,” he said, “What are we having?”

 

***

 

Stiles soon found that when Derek said, “help with dinner,” what he really meant was, “make us dinner, and if you need me to hand you things, I will.” Stiles didn’t mind. He thought it was kind of adorable that Derek called the tablespoon “the bigger spoon.” Lydia had also volunteered to help, and as expected, she seemed to know what she was doing. Stiles wondered if there was anything she couldn’t do. It didn’t take too long to figure out that she must have been the one to tell Derek that Stiles enjoyed cooking. He’d have to ask her how she knew, and what else she knew about Stiles…

The trio decided they would make something simple with the chicken Derek had bought. It was almost sunset, and everyone agreed the longer a pack of hungry wolves had to wait for dinner, the worse off they’d be. Chicken Pesto was something Stiles had made before, and Lydia had purchased all of the ingredients. And frankly, it just sounded good.

The Hale’s kitchen rivaled that of Martha Stewarts, and Stiles was here for it. Even his mother would have been impressed, and her kitchen was better than Martha’s. Everything he could have ever needed was at his disposal, and it felt good to be in a kitchen again. Stiles mainly worked on the chicken, Lydia mostly prepared the sauce. And Derek… well Derek handed them things.

At one point, Stiles taught him how to halve a cherry tomato, and Derek did so diligently. No tomato went unhalved, and every tomato was sliced with surgical precision. Once he’d cut the entire bunch, he presented them to Stiles in a bowl, like a dog bringing his owner a dead bird. He looked so proud of himself, and Stiles wished he had taken a picture. It was a rare thing to see Derek think of himself in a way that wasn’t overly critical.

“See, you helped!” Stiles said fondly.

Once the basil was mixed into the sauce, and the chicken was simmering on the stove, the kitchen began to smell like a kitchen. The three were laughing, and really enjoying themselves. Lydia had turned on the radio and they were listening to some 80s pop station, and for the first time in a long time, Stiles was happy.

The rest of the pack was more than gracious for the meal; even Jackson told Stiles he was a great cook. Stiles was absolutely beaming. Other than his dad, he’d never cooked for anyone before. The way that Derek was scarfing down his plate gave Stiles more than enough satisfaction.   
Stiles would be lying if he said his heart didn’t grow three sizes larger when he saw how happy Derek was to have his pack together for dinner. He was becoming an alpha that his parents would be proud of. One that Laura would be proud of.

One that Stiles was proud of.

Once they’d all finished eating and the mess was cleaned up, the group found themselves in the family room, slouched over couches and sprawled out on the floor.

Stiles was the last one out of the kitchen, and for a moment he felt out a place – like he wasn’t sure which of his friends he could go and sit with. It was a horrible feeling, but it didn’t last long. Danny, Allison, and Lydia were playing some game that involved taking shots of vodka. Lydia called over to Stiles and patted the ground next to her, indicating he should join them. He happily obliged. The first shot was rough, but he felt himself relax almost immediately. The familiar sense of a buzz creeping outward from his chest to his limbs. By his fourth and final shot, he was feeling pretty great. He wasn’t sloppy or incoherent drunk, and he felt pretty great.

Someone asked if anyone wanted to watch a movie and Stiles was on it. He immediately pulled up Netflix on his laptop and connected to the TV. He figured Derek must have done some upgrades to the Hale’s summer home if it had Wi-Fi and all that. He made a mental note to ask Derek about that later.

“Alright good people,” Stiles stood and proclaimed to the room. “On this most auspicious of nights, we will be watching one of two films, and to decide those films we will be taking a vote.”

Some of the group rolled their eyes fondly, but they all seemed at least a little amused by his dramatic antics.

“Option 1: The timeless Tarantino classic tale of a woman scorned: Kill Bill volume 1.  
And Option 2: Tim Burton’s groundbreaking gothic comedy: Beetlejuice.”

Some murmurs and considerations broke out across the room.

“Stiles, why do we have to pick from these two?” Jackson asked. “There’s hundreds of movies on Netflix.”

“Because, Jack _ass_ , I made dinner. And as such, we get to watch one of _my_ two favorite movies.” Stiles said indignantly

Scott had walked back into the room from talking to his mom outside. He joined Allison on the couch, looked around and asked what was going on.

“Stiles want’s to watch Beetlejuice,” Jackson said flatly.

Scott jumped approximately 8 feet into the air. “STILES NO!” The guy looked seriously concerned.

Erica was laughing so hard she was almost crying. “What’s wrong with Beetlejuice?” She asked.

Stiles put on a very cunning and amused grin. “Scott _hates_ Beetlejuice,” he explained. “When we were kids, we watched it and he had nightmares for months.”

“I did not!” Scott said defensively. “I just. I just don’t want to watch it. That’s all. We can just watch something else, right guys?”

The room fell silent, everyone smiling and looking around to everyone else. Scott was scared of Beetlejuice and it was great.

“I, for one, would love to watch Beetlejuice,” Derek said innocently. Stiles broke out in a shit-eating grin.   
  
“Well,” Stiles declared, shrugging like it was out of his hands. “The alpha has spoken. Beetlejuice it is. Sorry, Scotty.”

“Its okay, Scott,” Allison said in her best baby voice. “I’ll protect you from Beetlejuice.”

Everyone laughed at that, and Stiles thought that maybe Allison wasn’t such a bad person after all.

Stiles queued up the movie, and sat down on the couch right next to Derek. There wasn’t exactly too much room next to Derek, but Stiles’ inhibitions were even lower than usual, and he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather sit next to. Derek’s arm was resting along the back of the couch behind Stiles’ head and he couldn’t help himself from imagining that Derek did that _after_ he sat down. He’d tried to ignore the butterflies in his stomach at being seated so close to the man. If Derek was uncomfortable with the proximity, he didn’t show it. In fact, if Stiles wasn’t imagining it, Derek may have even scooted… closer? The vodka must have seriously impaired his judgment.

Halfway through the movie, Scott was actually terrified. A few members of the group had gone off to bed, and now only Scott, Allison, Stiles, Derek, Lydia, and Jackson remained. Everyone else seemed to really be enjoying the movie. At one point, Derek got up to go to the bathroom, and when he came back he was seated even closer to Stiles. He even put his arm back around him. Stiles was 99% sure they were almost, sort of cuddling. And man, it was nice. It felt like Derek might actually like Stiles. But that was crazy. Derek was Derek. He was just Stiles.

At some point he happen to look over at Lydia, who was laying against Jackson on the recliner. She gave him a knowing look and winked. It was the strangest thing, and Stiles didn’t really understand it.

“God, they’re gonna say it,” Scott said rhetorically, drawing Stiles’ attention. He had his fingers plugged into his ears, and his eyes were squinted about as far as they could go without actually being closed.

Stiles chuckled silently along with Allison. “Hey, Scott?” Stiles said.

Scott looked over to Stiles, who was smiling again. “Beetlejuice.” He said simply.

“Stiles. Don’t.”

But Stiles never broke eye contact. He didn’t even blink. “Beetlejuice,” he said again.

“STILES DON’T! YOU CAN’T SAY IT THREE TIMES STILES STOP. I MEAN IT!”

“B-be-beet-“

“That’s it, I’m going to bed!” Scott said frantically. He stood up from his seat, and walked out of the room and up the stairs. He could barely be heard saying “I hate you guys,” over everyone’s joined laughter.

“Well I guess that’s my cue,” Allison said. “I’m gonna head to bed too, make sure Scott doesn’t have PTSD.”

“And I’m sure you’ll be heading to bed in your own bedroom, right?” Derek said.

“Of course, Alpha Derek.” Allison said, putting on her best mock-serious voice.Derek simply rolled his eyes in response.

“I think we’re gonna head to bed too,” Lydia chimed in. Jackson stood and followed her out.

Stiles yawned, and looked over to Derek. “Wanna finish the movie?” He asked.

“Sure thing,” Derek replied. But after only about 20 more minutes, Stiles was drifting off. At this point, he was shamelessly using Derek as a pillow. He should have cared more about invading Derek’s personal space, but it had been a long day. He wasn’t in his right mind. And some far-off, logical part of his brain told him that if it made Derek uncomfortable, then Derek would say so.

Not long after, he was completely teetering on the edge of consciousness. He was pretty sure that Derek was rubbing small, soothing circles into Stiles shoulder, but he couldn’t bring himself to raise his head and look over.

“You’re allowed to go to bed, you know.” Derek said softly.

“nuhuhm,” Stiles mumbled. “s-finish mov-uh.”

“Okay,” Derek whispered, his breath hot against the base of Stiles’ neck. Stiles could feel his nose snuggling against the back of his hairline. “You smell good,” Derek said even quieter than before. “Like _pack._ ”

The last thing Stiles felt before finally giving in to sleep was contentment. Here, on this couch, sleeping against Derek Hale, Stiles felt _safe._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Finally some concrete Sterek snuggling! Don'y worry, the wait is almost over. Next chapter we finally get to see some... well. Guess you'll just have to see. ;) As always, thanks for reading and let me know what you guys thought!


	6. Panic! at the Beach House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles takes some personal time to relax himself after a panic attack. Derek overhears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is essentially smut, but if you look hard enough you can find some plot.

_How the fuck is it already morning.  
_ __  
Stiles squinted his eyes against the harsh light pouring in from the windows. He tried to scrub the sleep from his eyes and curled underneath the blanket a bit more. Mornings were the worst time of the whole day. Not just some mornings. All mornings. They were cruel and evil by nature and they had to be stopped.

Stiles reached around the bed absently, searching for his phone. He felt weird, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. His arms were restricted somehow. Oh. He was still wearing his hoodie from yesterday. Why was he still wearing his hoodie? He never slept with a shirt on. With the sheets and the clothes, it was all too constricting, and it really didn’t help his panic disorder. Oh. He had jeans on too. And socks. Stiles didn’t sleep in any of these things. He was breathing heavy. Trying to push everything off of him. He couldn’t get his jeans off quickly enough and the panic was welling up inside him. His arms were halfway out of his shirt but one was stuck in the armhole and now he couldn’t breath. There wasn’t enough air in this room. In this bed. Not enough air. He wasn’t getting enough air. He had to… He had to…

“Stiles?”

_Was that Derek? Why was Derek here? Where is here? What the fuck is happening._

“STILES!”  
Somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear Derek. He could register his presence in the room. But he couldn’t acknowledge him. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t even really see him. Everything was really blurry. Tunneled. Tunnel vision. That’s what was happening. _Fuck._

“Scott!”

_Scott? Why was Scott here? No. No, Scott wasn’t here. Derek was yelling for Scott. Why was Derek yelling for Scott. Why wasn’t Scott here? Oh. Yeah. Scott kinda doesn’t give a fuck about me._

Someone else was in the room now. Stiles still couldn’t breathe. Well, that wasn’t quite right. He _could_ breathe. It just wasn’t doing him any good. If anything he was breathing too much.

“What’s happening to him?” That was Derek again.

_Hyperventilating, Derek. I’m hyperventilating. Don’t you know anything?_

Wait. Derek? He was with Derek on the couch. How did he get from the couch into the bed. He wasn’t that drunk. Someone really needed to get these clothes off of him.   
And OKAY. Now he was soaking wet. He stopped moving. Everything stopped moving. His heart was still racing but it was slowing down. Why was he wet. What the fuck was happening.

Everything went quiet.

“St-Stiles?” he heard Derek ask him. His voice was broken and soft. Small and distant. _Scared._

Stiles opened his eyes and sucked in a slow, deep breath. His exhale was a lot shakier than he had hoped for. He really needed to work on that.

Kneeling in front of him were Isaac and Derek, their eyes wide in terror and concern. Isaac was holding a large, empty vase.

“Did you throw water on me?” Stiles asked absurdly. It wasn’t really what he was trying to say, but he guessed it worked.

Derek choked out a laugh. He looked so incredibly relieved. He leaned back on his knees, head fallings against his shoulder blades. He looked at the ceiling as he let out another really long sigh.

“You scared the shit out of us,” Isaac said.

Looking back, Stiles hated that his automatic response to that was embarrassment. He was ashamed. Flushed. He hated that people could get so worked up over him. He didn’t feel important enough for that. No one ever seemed to notice him unless he was inconveniencing them in some way.

“I… uhm. I’m sorry, guys,” he said sheepishly, looking away, toward the ground.

Derek lunged at him from where he sat two feet away and wrapped him in a desperate hug. He and Stiles were practically the same height but Derek felt so _big_ wrapped around him. He was warm, and soft. Yet firm at the same time. And he smelled intoxicating. Musk. And the faint smell of yesterday’s deodorant and maybe leather and some kind of woodsy smell and it was just. _Derek._

He clung on a little too long, but Stiles didn’t mind. When he finally let up, he leaned back and Stiles actually got a clear look at him. He was wearing a wife beater and boxers. And that was it. Derek was just practically dry humping him with only boxers on. Dark hair covered his legs and Stiles could see it peeking out from the v of his tank top. His hair was still matted from sleep and sticking out in all directions. The sight alone threatened to send Stiles into another panic attack.

He thanked Derek and Isaac, and assured them he was fine. “Just your run-of-the-mill panic attack. Part of every balanced breakfast,” he said lightly.

Isaac picked up the discarded flowers from the vase and apologized again for dumping water on him. He assured Isaac it was fine. “It worked, didn’t it?” Stiles had said.

“Thanks again,” he said to Derek. “I’m uhm. I’m just gonna take a shower.”

Derek nodded. “Yeah, yeah. Go ahead. Do whatever you need to do.”

Stiles started to walk to the bathroom, leaving Derek standing in his room. “Hey, Derek?” He asked. “Did I? I mean… I don’t remember going to bed last night,” Stiles said hesitantly.

Derek looked around awkwardly. “Oh. Right. Well, that’s because you fell asleep on the couch [ _on me_ ] and I tried to wake you, but you were passed out. So I just carried you upstairs. No big deal,” he waved his arm, indicating it was nothing.

Stiles stood there for a moment, staring in shock and awe. His mouth hung open; an idiosyncrasy of Stiles. He was mortified. And intrigued? He was 9000% done with this day and it hadn’t even started yet.

“Oh,” he replied. “Okay then. Thanks?” God, he was so awkward.

Before Derek could say anything, he swiftly shut the bathroom door behind him. He took a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror. His arm was still halfway out of his hoodie. He huffed out a laugh at how ridiculous he was.

He stripped down and walked over to the shower. It was bigger than Stiles thought. There was even one of those detachable shower heads. He slid the frosted glass door and jiggered with the handle a bit until he figured out how to use it. It’s funny. Stiles could derive complex mathematical formulas in a matter of seconds, but put him in front of a new shower and it’s like driving a spacecraft.

He did his best to relax under the steamy warm water; the lingering effects of his panic attack still weighing him down a bit. As he reviewed the events of this morning, his mind kept drifting back to Derek. Derek hugged him. Derek was glad he was okay. And damn, Derek looked sexy in his boxer briefs. Before he realized it, he was wondering how Derek would look without the boxer briefs. Without the wife beater.

He wondered how it would feel to rub up against Derek. How his dark stubble would feel against his face, his chest, his dick.

He was hard. He hadn’t jacked off since they’d been at the Hale house, which had been less than 24 hours. But he was a teenager. Once every 24 hours just didn’t cut it.

He leaned back against the cool shower tile and stroked his dick slowly. No matter what else he tried to think about: porn, Lydia, more porn, his mind kept going back to Derek. He imagined it was Derek’s mouth closing over his shaft instead of his hand. How warm and wet and smooth it would be. How Derek’s hands would roam over his body while he sucked him down. Grabbing his thighs, rubbing over his pecs. He imagined his hands gripping Derek’s thick hair, holding on for dear life. There was no doubt in his mind that Derek would give amazing head.

His hand was moving faster now. Up and down, twisting at the head, thumb running gently over the slit. His breath was heavy. He brought his right hand down to massage his balls. Teasing them. Just enough to feel good, but not enough to finish himself off too quickly.

He bit at his lip to mask the small moaning sounds escaping from his throat. He tentatively whispered out “Derek,” and damn, it felt good rolling off his tongue. He said it again; loud enough that he could hear it. He started to feel his orgasm building low in his stomach. He was writhing in pleasure, back against the shower wall. Biting his lip to the point that it would probably bleed. He imagined it was Derek biting his lip, kissing him so hard he couldn’t breath, his rough beard rubbing against his smooth face and that did it.

He let out a moan as he came all over his hand. He was breathing heavy and let out a long sigh, and he hated that he was smiling like a dopey idiot. Derek Hale was going to be the death of him.

 

But hey, there were worse ways to go.

 

***

 

After Stiles closed the bathroom door behind him Derek scrubbed his hands over his face in frustration. What was he thinking? Why the fuck did he tell Stiles he carried him to bed. _You were just being a good Alpha, it’s what anyone would do._

No. Derek knew better. He knew how deep his affection for Stiles ran. He was in love with this kid. His wolf was in love with this kid. And it was killing him, inside and out. He almost didn’t put Stiles down when he had him in his arms last night, carrying him up the stairs bridal style. His heart panged when he couldn’t crawl up next to Stiles in bed and sleep in the comfort of their mixed scents. It drove him crazy.

It drove his wolf _insane._

He was having more and more trouble controlling his shift when he was around Stiles. He chalked it up to him not being used to having the whole pack around. Too many distractions, too many scents in one house. He was on edge. The pressure of trying to be a good Alpha was weighing him down.

He went too far when he latched himself onto Stiles. But _god_ , the kid scared the shit out of him. On some level he knew Stiles was just having a panic attack. But it felt like Stiles was dying. It felt like _he_ was dying.

He made his way out of Stiles room. As soon as he stepped foot into the hallway he already missed the smell of Stiles. He loved that smell. He had for quite some time.

He took off his shirt and collapsed back onto his bed. He could hear Stiles heartbeat from in the bathroom. It was still a bit erratic, but there was something calming about listening to Stiles’ heart.

So Derek laid there, and listened.

At first, it was working. Derek was even starting to drift off to sleep. But before he knew it, he had stumbled upon something incredibly… private. And fuck.

He was so screwed.

Stiles was jerking off.

Stiles was jerking off. In the shower. Of the bathroom. That he and Derek shared. Derek could hear it. And Jesus fucking Christ, Derek could smell it. He could smell Stiles arousal through the walls. The steam from the shower carrying it through the air. It was sweet, and warm, like cinnamon sugar, and pumpkin spice. And Derek couldn’t get enough. He imagined what Stiles was doing to himself in the shower and it went straight to Derek’s dick. He listened carefully to the rest of the house. He couldn’t hear anyone else. He was safe for now. But was he really going to do this?

God, he was going straight to Hell, but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He wriggled out of his underwear and his hard dick flopped firm against his abs. He couldn’t wait any longer. He was horny. And Stiles was touching himself just a thin wall away, and Derek could hear him _moaning_. He wasted no time. His hand automatically went to his hard cock, and he gave it a few gentle tugs. Pulling the foreskin back, pretending it was stiles touching him. He knew Stiles had never been with a man before, or, most likely anybody before. And that made him all the more appealing to Derek. He wanted to be Stiles’ first. And his only. He wanted the first dick down Stiles beautiful throat to be his own.

He imagined Stiles licking tentatively at the head of his dick, how innocent he would look. How determined. He’d be such a good boy for Derek.

That was the wolf talking, and he knew it. But damn. It was turning him on. He brought his left hand up to his chest, rubbing his pecs, stopping to give his sensitive nipple some extra attention. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself. He only took his hand off his dick to lick a long strip of saliva onto his palm. The extra lubrication felt amazing. He imagined it was from Stiles mouth. How Stiles would eagerly choke on his thick cock. How he would love it.

Then he heard it.

“Derek.”

It was a whisper, but it resonated through Derek like a megaphone.

Stiles said his name. Stiles was thinking about Derek while he was jerking off in the shower. And with a few more rough, needy strokes, Derek came. He shot over his stomach and chest as his orgasm raked through his body. He laid there in his post-orgasmic bliss, unable to move a muscle. That was, until he heard the shower turn off.

He lifted his head and looked down at his horizontal naked form, ropes of cum mixed in with the thick hair on his chest and abdomen. He experimentally ran his finger through it, and brought it to his nose. It smelled musky, but not bad. _Fuck it._ He sucked his finger into his mouth, imagining it was Stiles’ cum he was eating. It tasted bitter, a little salty. But overall it wasn’t bad. He grabbed his discarded shirt from where it landed on the floor, and wiped the rest of his cum off his chest. He still felt a little sticky, but decided he could live with it. At least for another hour.

He pulled on some shorts and grabbed the headphones off his nightstand. He was going on a run. He definitely needed to clear his head.

Stiles Stilinski was going to be the death of him.

 

He couldn’t think of a better way to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written any sex scenes or anything like that, so I hope it didn't read like a 90s VCR manual. This was basically a filler chapter, but you guys deserve some sexy times. Even if it's not quite Sterek. As always, let me know what you think! =)


	7. 808s & Heartbreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miscommunication leads to complication.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. This is a really short chapter, but I wanted to give you guys something to hold you over. Life has been absolutely crazy lately. Grad School, internship, second job on the weekends. I'm a busy guy this semester. Anyway, enough about me. Enjoy!

It was probably around 9:30 or 10:00 when Stiles got dressed and made his way down the staircase. He couldn’t really hear anyone in the house. _That’s weird._

He made his way around the bottom floor. No one was in the kitchen. The dining room was completely empty. No one on the back porch. No one on the front porch either. It seemed he was alone. _No surprise there._

He found solace in the cupboards, where he noticed his favorite cereal. Fruit Loops with Marshmallows. _How did they know to get my favorite cereal? Maybe Scott wasn’t such a bad friend after all._

He grabbed his milk from the fridge, shut the door, and almost leaped out of his skin as Isaac stood there silently, like a villain from some John Carpenter movie.

“Jesus H. CHRIST, Isaac! What the fuck? Don’t sneak up on people!” Stiles exclaimed.

Isaac looked sheepishly guilty, and Stiles ignored the red tinge that flushed over his cheeks. “Sorry, Stiles,’ he said quietly.

Stiles realized that screaming at Isaac may have done more harm than he realized. The way the taller boy twisted in on himself was the first indication, a vestige of his past trauma. It made Stiles hate Isaac’s dad more than he already did. Which was a lot. Stiles had felt a sick pang of delight when he learned that Mr. Lahey was mauled by the kanima last year.

“No. Shit. Sorry Isaac, I didn’t mean to yell at you,” Stiles said quickly. “You just startled me, that’s all. It’s all good! No worries, bud.” He clasped his hand over Isaac’s shoulder in affirmation and the boy seemed to visibly relax.

“Looks like we’re all a bit on edge today, huh?” Isaac said lightly.

“Nah,” Stiles replied, mouth full of soggy cereal, “I think it’s still just me.”

They both laughed at that, and Stiles actually felt normal. For a small moment, he was just a normal teenager, having breakfast with a friend. It was nice.

“Can I ask you something?” Isaac piped up after a while.

Stiles smiled, resisting the urge to say something smart-alike like ‘ _well you just did.’_ “Yeah, dude. Shoot,” he said instead.

“I think I like Erica,” Isaac blurted out quickly.

“… well. Huh,” he stammered out. “That’s not exactly a question, but okay. Big news, none the less. Have you told her how you feel? Does she like you back? How long has this been going on?”

His mind was firing a mile a minute with all sorts of questions, memories of seeing the two together. He’d always thought they were more a brother/sister typed relationship.

Isaac seemed to consider all of this for a moment. “Well… I think she likes Boyd. I think they actually might even be dating? I’m not sure,” he said. “The whole thing is all very confusing.”

“Dude,” Stiles said, “You should talk to Lydia.”

When Isaac raised a questioning brow, Stiles continued. “Seriously. Lydia is an excellent secret keeper, she knows everything about everyone, and she’d probably give you much better advice than I could.”

“Are you forgetting we tried to have her killed last year?” Isaac deadpanned.

“Yeah… our lives are pretty fucked, huh.” Stiles said, smiling. He wasn’t sure why he said what he said next. He didn’t actually know Isaac that well. The two had been classmates since 6th grade, but never quite friends. They were acquaintances at best.

“I think I like Derek.”

Isaac looked up from his bowl of cereal, bright green eyes reflected in the morning sun. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He looked… amazed.

“Thank God you finally figured it out,” Isaac said. He pulled out his phone and looked at the calendar. “And Lydia owes me 20 bucks! She thought it would take at least half the week!”

Stiles flopped his head into his hands. He really was oblivious to himself. How long had he been giving these signs that he was in love with Derek? This was getting out of hand.

Isaac stood up to clear his dishes from the table, patting Stiles on the back as he passed by. “It’s okay buddy, Derek doesn’t know.”

“That makes me feel a little better,” Stiles said.

“Do you think that’s what caused you panic attack this morning?” Isaac asked.

Stiles thought for a minute. He was certainly more anxious lately, and the newly discovered attraction to hairy werewolf men definitely wasn’t helping.

“I only ask because you’ve smelled like worry since we got here,” Isaac said passingly.

“One,” Stiles began, “I absolutely hate that you all smell my emotions without my consent. I’m certain if the presence of werewolves became known, that level of privacy invasion would be ILLEGAL!”

Isaac chuckled at that.

“And two,” the boy continued “The panic attack was because I woke up in my clothes, under the covers, and I wasn’t really sure how I got there. I can’t sleep in my clothes, it’s all too constricting? I guess? It messes with my anxiety.”

Isaac straightened for a minute. “So… it was Derek’s fault?” he asked tentatively.

Stiles didn’t like the implications of the question. It wasn’t really anyone’s _fault_. It was his own doing. It was _his_ panic disorder. It was _his_ life. He should take responsibility for it. “No, no… I mean, yes, technically, if Derek hadn’t ‘Princess Brided’ me up the stairs and tucked me in with jeans and a hoodie, I probably wouldn’t have had a panic attack. But it’s fine. Shit happens, get a helmet and all that.”

The room fell silent after that. After a moment, Isaac raised his head and looked over to Stiles. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said simply.

Stiles was really tired of talking about himself. He knew Isaac meant well, but he had to get this conversation going in a different direction. He wrapped around Isaac in a bro-hug and patted him on the back.

“Ahem… Am I interrupting something?”

The voice came from the doorway. It was Derek. Shirtless, hairy, body carved from stone, Derek. Stiles flopped his arms around awkwardly and made a pass to casually lean against the counter. He thought it almost might have worked.

Derek looked stoic as ever. He simply walked to the front door.

“Going for a run,” is all he said before he walked out the door.

“Typical Derek,” they said simultaneously, earning a round of laughter from the both of them.

“Gee Brain, what are we going to do tonight?” Isaac asked.

“The same thing we do everyday, Pinky.” Stiles said in his best mouse voice, ”Try to take over the world.”

 

***

 

Derek shifted silently down the steps, stopping only as he heard the muffled voices of Isaac and Stiles.

“No, no… I mean, yes, technically, if Derek hadn’t ‘Princess Brided’ me up the stairs and tucked me in with jeans and a hoodie, I probably wouldn’t have had a panic attack. But it’s fine. Shit happens, get a helmet and all that.”

It hit Derek like a truck. All of his organs collected together and jumped to the base of his throat. He’d been beaten within an inch of his life and he’d tell you this was a worse feeling. He felt gross. He felt guilty. Naïve.

He felt like a failure.

He did the only thing he knew how to do. Shut it down, and keep moving.

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and stood in the doorway.

“Ahem. Am I interrupting something?” Derek asked. He tried to sound normal but he knew he sounded off. He saw that Stiles and Isaac were hugging. Derek hadn’t even realized they were friends. Any other time he would have given it more thought, but he had to get out of here.

Stiles did something stupid with his arms and leaned against the counter. He could smell the concern coming off of Isaac in waves. It was stinging at his eyes; tugging at his throat.

“Going for a run,” was all Derek could muster. He walked out the door without so much a glance in their direction.

“Typical Derek,” he heard them say after he shut the door.

_Yeah. Typical Derek. Typical, stupid fucking me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it. I know, I know. Angst and more angst. Things always get worse before they get better. I have chapter 8 planned out, just need to get it written. As always, let me know what you think! =]


	8. 808s & Heartbreak Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac and Stiles have some fun at a stranger's party. Maybe too much fun...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are getting two chapters at once! Please notice that I've updated the tags, as this chapter features a pretty drunken seduction. Read at your own risk!

Once they discovered that they were the only ones in the house, Isaac and Stiles decided that they could have fun without the rest of them. Stiles told Isaac that it didn’t really surprise him that everyone had gone without a trace; they tended to forget that Stiles existed. Isaac admitted that he didn’t even ask Erica where they were going when she woke him up this morning. He just told her they could leave without him; he needed to catch up on some sleep anyway. He wasn’t really one for social engagements and group outings.

“Yeah, but at least they woke you up,” Stiles said as the two walked down the beach. They didn’t really have a plan, or intentions to go anywhere, but they both agreed that walking along the beach beat the hell out of watching TV back at the house.

“It is weird that Derek didn’t answer his phone, though,” Isaac supplied, picking up at seashell and sticking it in his pocket. “If he was running with music, the call would have came right through the headphones.”

Stiles nodded, throwing a rock far out into the water. “Yeah,” he started, “I stopped trying to figure out Derek Hale a long time ago.” _If only that were true._

They continued on like that for a while, picking up shells they found interesting and throwing back the broken ones. Stiles found a small, piece of white coral and added it to his pocket-collection. It was almost a perfect circle, and the craters made it look like the moon. The back of his mind registered that this was a rock that Derek might like, but that certainly wasn’t why he kept it. Nope. Not at all.

After probably a half hour of walking, they came across a house that was almost as big as the Hales’. It was closer to the beach, and the back wasn’t hidden by sea oats. Music was blaring through unseen speakers and about 50 or so people were dispersed in the yard. They all looked about the same age as Isaac and Stiles, red solo cups in hand, dancing and swaying to the music. Most people were in their swimming suits. A game of volleyball was being played in the corner of the backyard that seemed to be more sand than grass. Stiles had seen parties like this a hundred times before, but they had never really been his thing. He was much more comfortable socializing with a small group of friends, or not socializing at all. But today, after all the shit he’s been through in the last year. After the kanima, after the druid teacher from Hell, after the shit with Scott, after the newfound alteration to his sexuality, after all of his friends had forgotten him _again_. This party looked like fun.

As if the universe couldn’t be more clear, he noticed the group of girls that he had passed on the beach the other day. The blonde one who had been eyeing him noticed them as well, and she waved them over enthusiastically.

“Should we go?” Isaac asked, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Stiles couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “You know, any other day I’d say no,” he looked to Isaac, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “But today, I’m saying fuck it. Let’s have some fucking fun!”

He walked over to the house without even checking to see if Isaac was behind him. Stiles didn’t need werewolf senses to know that he was.

The party was actually awesome, and Stiles was having a really good time. He was absolutely wasted, of course, but he was having fun. Real _fun_ , with some awesome people he’d met. The party was being thrown by this guy named Theo. It was his family’s house, Stiles had learned, but they let him and some friends come up for spring break. The co-host of the party was Theo’s girlfriend, Braeden. She was a sophomore at a private university nearby, so she invited a lot of her friends as well. Stiles couldn’t ignore the power and self-assurance that radiated from the couple as they walked around mingling.

The girl that he recognized from yesterday was named Heather, and as it turned out, Heather was much more interested in Isaac. Honestly, Stiles was perfectly fine with that. Isaac deserved to have a little fun.

The only problem was that it meant Stiles was alone at a party, so he decided to make friends. Meet people. Do what normal people do. He could do that. Right?

Apparently he could, but just not sober.

As it turns out, drunk people love giving away alcohol to sober people who are looking to get drunk.

He’d had at least four beers, and two mixed drinks that were way too fruity for him to have enjoyed them as much as he did. But he planned to keep that to himself. What really did him over were the Jell-O shots. The idea seemed so simple. He loved Jell-O, he loved alcohol. It was a no-brainer. That was, until Theo decided that there were way too many Jell-O shots left, and they needed to have a completion to see who could finish 10 the quickest.

Stiles totally had this. He could eat Jell-O like nobody’s business. That’s when he found himself in the living room with 8 other people, each had a stack of ten small cups of Jell-O in front of them. It was a whole big thing. There was an audience, someone blew a whistle and waved a flag when the contest started. He was a little hazy on the details, but everyone was cheering for him as he downed his tenth cup and won the contest.

Luckily the shots weren’t very strong, and now he considered himself to be full on drunk. Not sloppy drunk, but a very content and happy, warmth spreading all over his body, kind of drunk. He was talking to complete strangers like they were his best friend. “Seriously, he is the sexiest human alive,” he heard himself say. Everyone at this party was now very familiar with his recently discovered bisexuality, and his crush on Derek Hale.

“He’s got the stubble, and the smile, and the muscles –and dude- the hottest fucking chest hair in the worldddddddd,” he told Theo.

The two were sitting on the couch, Stiles arm swung around the back of Theo, like they’d been best friends their whole lives. Theo was a cool dude, and Stiles decided he liked him. Braeden joined them after a while, sitting on the other side of Stiles as the two guys filled her in on Derek.

“Derek _Hale_ ,” Theo explained to his girlfriend after Stiles had told her about the stubble. “Oh and Stiles, don’t forget about the chest hair,” he added with a wink.

“He sounds like a real catch,” Braeden suggested, brushing some of Stiles hair out of his face.

Stiles nodded fervently.   
  
“The only problem is that he doesn’t seem to know that Stiles here exists,” Theo said, placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “I mean, can you believe that, Brae?” Theo continued, his hand moving slowly down Stiles’ arm. “A great guy like Stiles?” He dragged his hand back up to Stiles’ shoulder, and repeated the motion, caressing him gently.

Braeden only made a ‘hmm” sound in acknowledgement, and continued playing with Stiles hair.

Stiles could tell this was a little weird. But it felt amazing, being touched and appreciated like this. And by two people as gorgeous as Braeden and Theo, no less. But somewhere in the back of his mind he was questioning it. No one could possibly have any good intentions for Stiles, right?

“You see, Stiles,” Theo spoke up after a while. He was impossibly close now; Stiles could even smell his cologne. “I think you’re kinda awesome. You're smart. You’re funny. You’re strong,” he said, giving Stiles’ bicep a firm squeeze. “Not to mention,” he continued, face inching closer to Stiles, breath hot against his ear. “You’re cute as Hell.”

He cupped Stiles face in his hand and Stiles shuddered at how warm he was. His eyes were only half open at this point and he was pretty sure he was hard as a rock. Theo guided his mouth straight to his own and kissed him slow, like he was seeing how long it would take for Stiles to break. After what seemed like an eternity, the older boy gently pushed his tongue into Stiles’ mouth, probing and rubbing against his teeth and gums and tongue.

Stiles brain finally kicked into gear. “Fuck,” he breathed out, head backing away from Theo. Braeden had moved impossibly close on his left side, and her hand was still wrapped firmly around Stiles wrist. He blinked a lot, looking between the two of them, trying to clear his head and figure out just what the fuck was happening.

“Wait,” he said. “You two are… and I’m… and you’re?”

Braeden chuckled a bit at that. “Theo and I are very open-minded people,” she said seductively. “We like what we like.” She leaned in and licked a long stripe along Stiles’ neck.

He tilted his head away on instinct, leaving him looking directly back at Theo. His eyes glowed red. It was unmistakable. Theo was a werewolf. And an alpha, at that.

“ _Fuck…”_ Stiles whispered to himself, his eyelids still half closed. He wasn’t sure if he was into this or not. He wasn’t sure if he should go with it, or head for the hills. Theo closed his eyes and leaned back in toward Stiles, his hands finding their place on Stiles’ side and sliding under the fabric of his swim shorts.

“You know, Stiles,” Theo whispered in his ear seductively. “If you want, I can make you into something more powerful than you could even imagine.” He traced his hand lightly over the hair on Stiles thigh, his other hand snaking up under Stiles’ shirt.

“You can be so much more than just a member of a pack that doesn’t appreciate you,” Braeden added.

Stiles couldn’t help the moan that escaped his throat as Theo’s hot breath danced over his neck. He registered faintly that he was still at the party, music still playing, people still at the house. But he couldn’t be bothered with any of that.

Theo took a deep inhale through his nose, breathing in right underneath Stiles’ earlobe. It gave him chills. Stiles didn’t know when his own hand had found its way into the back of Theo’s hair, but it felt good to keep it there.

“God,” Theo breathed out, “He smells so fucking _incredible_ , doesn’t he babe?”

“He really, _really_ does,” Braeden said back.

“Stiles,” Theo said slowly. “You don’t have to take the bite. You’re welcome into this pack as a human or a wolf.”

Braeden had wormed her hand under stiles other pant leg and was ghosting over his thigh as well. This was like something out of his deepest fantasies. His skin was on fire, every touch vibrating his core with absolute pleasure. He couldn’t care less what they were saying to him. They could be selling him a used submarine and he’d agree to take it.

Theo was talking again. “There’s a place in this pack for you.” He kissed stiles neck. “There’s a place for those gorgeous pink lips of yours.” He drug his teeth over Stiles’ bottom lip.

“There’s a place for these sexy hands of yours,” Braeden said, sucking two of Stiles’ fingers into her mouth, further than Stiles thought they should be able to go.

“And there’s definitely a place for this amazing cock of yours,” Theo said, his fingers slowly making their way to Stiles’ dick.

Stiles’ eyes were shut at this point. He couldn’t let something as mundane as vision distract him from what was happening with his body.

He would have let them do anything they wanted with him. He was too disinhibited to object. He was feeling too good to want to. The implications of his current situation were completely lost on him, and he didn’t even care. Just as he was about to use his hand to pull Theo in for another kiss, he heard his name.

“Stiles?” It was Isaac. _Oh shit. Isaac’s here._

He’d forgotten all about Isaac. The two came to the party together. Everything was coming back to him now. Without so much as a word, Isaac pulled him up off the couch and the two were on their way out the door.

“What was that??” Stiles asked his friend.

“You’ll thank me later,” Isaac said simply.

Stiles wasn't sure how long it took them to get back to the house, but he couldn't have done it without Isaac. Literally. Isaac kept a very happy Stiles from wandering off about 8 times in their short half-hour walk. They hadn't discussed the incident at the party. It was the furthest thing from Stiles’ mind. But that distance got shorter, the closer they got home. And the more Stiles started to sober up. He wasn’t sure what to think about it.

It was evening now. The sun was starting the set behind the lower clouds on the horizon, the skies changed from light blue to swirls of red and blotches of pink and orange.

When they finally got back to the house, Scott and Lydia ran out to greet them.

"Jesus Christ, where have you two BEEN?" Lydia practically screamed. Stiles briefly wondered how they didn't see the whole Banshee thing coming with a voice like that. Scott just looked between the two of them like a scared puppy dog. Stiles kind of wanted to punch him again.

"Seriously guys," Scott said, "We were really worried about you."

Stiles snorted. "That's rich, Scott. Considering I woke up to an empty house and none of you answered your phones." He spoke with more malice than he intended, but he didn't care. Scott looked to Isaac for help but the taller boy stayed silent, averting his eyes to the ground.

"Where's Derek?" Lydia asked.

Stiles glanced up to the house and then back at Scott and Lydia. "What do you mean? He isn't home?"

"No, we thought he was with you guys?" Scott added.

"He left for a run this morning, a little before we went to the party," Isaac said.

"What party?" Lydia spat.

"Down the beach, some kids we met. Some of them were werewolves," Stiles explained.

Isaac looked surprised, taking a step backward. "They were?? You made out with a werewolf??"

Scott slapped Stiles on the shoulder, a stupid grin on his face. "You got some action?? And from a wolf?? Nice, dude! What did she look like?"

Isaac looked at Stiles, then to Scott, he seemed to realize what was happening here. Stiles gave him a "don't you dare" look. He looked back at the ground. What the Hell was this day becoming?

"I can't deal with this shit right now," Stiles said, flailing out his arms. He started walking back to the house, stomping his feet through the sand like a child. Lydia shouted something after him, but he couldn't make it out. He didn't care anyway. He was so done.

He walked through the kitchen, past Jackson and Erica and Danny, ignoring their greetings and questions of "where have you been?"

Straight up the stairs, and into his room. Only, his things weren't in his room, they were in a pile in the hallway. And in his room, was the last person he expected.

The girl was facing the dresser on the far wall, facing away from Stiles, long brown hair falling against her back. "So you're the one who thought they could stay in my room," she said without even turning her head.

"Cora?" Stiles asked hesitantly.

Low and behold, the figure turned around, revealing one Coraline Hale. She looked unimpressed as ever, arms crossed in front of her, eyebrow raised, hip kicked out to one side. She was the living embodiment of attitude.

"No, it's Nancy, Cora's evil twin." She deadpanned.

Stiles huffed out a breath, and his eyes rolled automatically. "I didn't know you were coming. Derek said you were busy."

She smiled a cocky smile. Like everything amused her. Like she always had the upper hand on everyone she spoke to. She intimidated the Hell out of him.

"I moved some things around," she said simply.

"Oh. Well, I-uh-didn't know this was your room," Stiles started. "I mean... I did. But only after Derek told me I could sleep in here. But judging by my stuff in the hallway, I'm guessing you don't want me staying in here..."

"Surprised you didn't stay in his room," Cora said nonchalantly.

Stiles furrowed his brows together, "but then, where would he sleep?"

She gave him a pointed look, her eyebrows raised.

It took him a second.

"Christ on a cracker, not you too!" He exclaimed.

"Not really too subtle, Stilinski. But uh… he'll never come near you, when you smell like that." She waved the air in front of her nose. "You reek of another pack. Who have you been fucking?"

Stiles was mortified. He felt gross, like he needed to wash off the smell of wolves. He doubted he could, considering he couldn't even smell it himself.

"Stop worrying. Jesus you're stressing _me_ out," Cora said.

"Derek isn't even gay!" Is all Stiles could say. He sort of screamed it, actually.

She looked at Stiles like he was an idiot, which, given how he felt at the moment, maybe wasn't far off.

"Okay?" Cora said slowly. "Neither are you?"

"Yeah but!" Well, Stiles didn't really have an answer for that.

The room grew quiet and Cora hummed a small "mm-hm."

He swallowed the feeling in the back of his throat and picked up his suitcase and backpack from the hallway. He huffed down the stairs and threw his belongings on the sofa in the sitting room. Cora trickled silently behind him and watched as he sighed in frustration, plopping on the couch.

"You don't have to sleep on the couch. There's plenty of rooms with two beds, you can—"

"Actually I can't, Cora, okay? I can't possibly put myself in a position where I can ask anything from any of the fucking people in this house after the way they’ve been treating me." Tears were stinging at his eyes, and he swallowed the lump in the back of his throat again. "They don't give a shit about me."

She was clearly not expecting such a dramatic reaction from the kid, otherwise she would have never kicked him out of the room. "Look, Stiles, I'm sorry. I don't know what's going on right now, but I can say with 100% confidence you are still part of this pack. Your clothes, the room upstairs, it smells like you and it smells like pack. You smell like pack. That doesn't happen unless you're a member."

Before Stiles could say anything, the front door swung open revealing Derek, stoic as ever, but surprisingly wearing a shirt.

"Cora?" He said.

He took one step into the hallway and laid eyes on Stiles, his eyes immediately glowing red. Stiles stood up from the couch, the only separating him and Derek was Cora, arms outstretched at each of them.

Derek was shifting now. His breaths became huffs and his huffs became growls. His teeth elongated and hair appeared at the sides of his face. Stiles knew Derek wasn't in control.

"Stiles," Cora said softly, her eyes never leaving Derek.

 

"Run."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite the cliff hanger, eh? Don't worry, I'm posting the next chapter right after this because I probably wont be posting again for at least a week and a half. Enjoy!


	9. High Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles has always dealt with things in his own way. Today was no exception.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains recreational marijuana use. Be warned!

The roar alone could have knocked Stiles over, but when someone tells you to run, you run. Especially if that someone is a werewolf. When Cora Hale, the most badass of all the Hales, tells you to run. You run. And you don't ask questions.

Stiles took off through the other side of the sitting room. The bottom floor of the Hale house was essentially a circle. All of the rooms connected to each other, and most had a doorway to the wrap-around porch. He jumped over a couch and did his best not to lose his footing on the kitchen floor. He found himself pulling over stools and trash cans behind him like he'd seen people do in movies. He knew it wouldn't do much good against an alpha werewolf, but he wasn't the type to get mauled without a fight.

About the time he finished the whole circle, he felt Derek right behind him, and the next thing he knew, he was being slammed against the wall. He must have hit his head. He knew that, because everything was hazy. He felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was shut his eyes and sleep. He vaguely registered that the rest of the pack was in the living room, but none of them moved to help him.

Derek had roared them into submission when they'd tried.

Everything was happening so fast. He was flat on the floor now, his back against the hardwood. A wolfed out Derek on top of him, smelling him, rubbing into his neck. Derek's hands were pressed deep into Stiles chest and he realized quickly he couldn't breath. That got his arms moving again.

He tried to push Derek off of him, but he wouldn't budge. He looked feral. His eyes hadn’t changed back to their normal jade color. Cora was somehow able to move against her Alpha's wishes and pounced on Derek, growling and snarling as she tried in vain to get Derek off of the boy.

It was no use. He reared back and sent Cora into the bookshelf. He'd moved just enough that Stiles' leg was free and he jammed his knee into Derek's groin as hard as he could. This freed Stiles' right arm enough to send an elbow right into his jaw. He chased the momentum and slammed Derek's head against the floor with his right hand. It bought him enough time to make the few steps to his backpack. He quickly unzipped the smallest pouch and pulled out a black handgun.

Derek was upright at this point, eyes still glowing maliciously.

He raised his arm and pointed the gun directly at Derek's face. The room went silent. Cora managed to cough out the words "Stiles, don't," followed by "Derek _please_."

But Derek wouldn't have it, or at least his wolf wouldn't. Stiles wondered if Derek was in there, watching himself destroy everything the way Stiles had with the Nogitsune.

He wished that someone had put a gun to his head back then.

Derek took a step forward and stiles fired. Only, instead of a bullet, the gun released a stream of oozing black liquid that hit Derek's face and neck.

He reared back, clawing and snarling at his face. Just as Stiles suspected, an attack on their Alpha sent the wolves that Derek had turned into a frenzy.

Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Jackson had shifted almost immediately, eyes glowing bright amber. But instead of shooting the other wolves with his hyper-realistic water gun, he aimed at the ground, and shot a circle of the black liquid all around him.

It did its job. The wolves charged the barrier and were knocked back instantly.

As they began to charge a second time, Lydia stepped forward, arms outstretched, and let out a piercing wail that knocked the wolves on their backs. Even Derek fell to his knees.

 

The dust settled and Derek had shifted back to his human form, looking around at the damage, helping Cora to her feet. Stiles stayed in his circle, gun in hand, wearing a look that could turn you to stone. His jaw was set, eyes still red and blotchy from crying only minutes before. Frankly, he was fucking pissed. He blinked, spilling a few tears because that's what happens when Stiles gets this mad: He cries.

His mother had always said it meant he had a kind heart. But right now he was ready to kill.

Derek looked at him. It was the saddest, most pitiful look Stiles thought a person could possibly conjure. But it meant nothing.

"Stiles, I'm. Fuck. I'm so sor—" Derek started.

"No, don't!" Stiles barked. He raised the gun back to Derek in an instant. "Don't you fucking dare.”

Scott stepped closer now, he wore the same sympathetic look. God, if there was one thing Stiles hated it was being pitied. How dare they make him feel like he was the one in the wrong? "Dude, just put the gun down,” Scott pleaded.

That just about did it for Stiles.

"Why, Scott?” He screamed. “So my best friends - so my PACK - can try to kill me for the third time in 5 minutes?? Is that why?” Scott stepped back, visibly shocked at his friends outrage. “You're all always going on about how I'm the weak, defenseless human, but look who's scared now!"

He knew he probably looked ridiculous. Crying from anger. Holding a gun at his best friends. He grabbed his backpack and headed for the stairs. As he walked by Derek, the Alpha grabbed his wrist, pleading silently for Stiles to stay.

"Derek, if you don't get your fucking hand off me I will line this house with Mountain Ash and set it the fuck on fire," Stiles threatened. He didn’t even sound like himself. The look of utter betrayal and hurt in Derek's eyes told Stiles he had gone too far. He didn’t care. The man relinquished his grip and Stiles continued up the stairs.

He locked himself in the bathroom and cried. He wasn't sure why. It was all he could do, he supposed. He wasn't really processing what had just happened. He wasn't really identifying any of the emotions surging through him. He just sat on the floor, against the cabinets, knees tucked against his chest. And he cried.

And when he was done crying, he took a shower.

His mom always said that showers made everything a little better.

After almost a half hour under the warm water, he finally got out. He didn't know if he felt better, but he definitely didn't feel worse. He pulled a towel out of his bag and remembered something else he'd brought. It was exactly what he needed.

After he'd dried off and threw on some clothes, he cleared a space on the bathroom counter and emptied out a small jar of bud. And God, as soon as he smelled it he felt better. He pulled out a pack of white grape Swisher Sweets and broke open one of the cigarillos, emptying the tobacco into the small bathroom trashcan. Just the act of rolling the blunt was calming him, the associated stimulus already providing the desired effects. It was something he could do without thinking, something he'd done so many times before. He broke down the weed, discarded a few of the larger stems, sprinkled it along the brown wrapper, and in no time he was licking the seal.

He put his ear to the bathroom door before he opened it, checking to see if anyone was in his - Cora's - room. When he heard nothing, he grabbed his backpack from the floor and made his way to the sliding glass door.

He sat for a while before he lit up, scooting to the edge of the deck and letting his feet hang through the spaces in the railing. The sound of waves crashing into the shore was one of his favorite things. He put the blunt in his mouth and lit the tip, taking a few quick puffs so the flame would catch. He took a deep breath and brought the smoke into the recesses of his lungs, holding it as long as he could and then letting out a long exhale.

And fuck.

He felt better already.

He let the blunt rest between his index and middle finger for a few minutes, before taking another toke. He'd never mastered smoke rings, but he always tried to blow them anyway, laughing at himself as he did.

He heard the sound of the glass door behind him, but didn't look to see who it was. He knew it wasn't Scott. And since Scott was the only one who knew he smoked, he also knew that whoever it was, wasn't expecting to find him getting high.

"If you're here to lecture me about the dangers of marijuana you can save it," he said to whomever stood behind him, not even bothering to turn around.

He wasn't sure what he expected, but what he heard was a small laugh. He'd know it anywhere. "There are dangers to smoking marijuana?" Lydia asked playfully. He gave a small chuckle and leaned his head all the way back, revealing an upside down Lydia Martin.

"Care if I join you?" She asked.

Stiles silently gestured to the spar next to him, to which the strawberry-blond quickly obliged.

To Stiles own surprise, she plopped down next to him and held out her index and middle finger, expectantly. He simply passed the weed to Lydia, who puffed it a few times like it was second nature.

"What? You think you're lighting up without me?"

"I didn't know you smoked," he said slowly.

"On occasion," Lydia replied. "And this, Stiles. This is a Hell of an occasion."

He took the blunt back from his friend and they continued the pattern off puff, puff, pass.

They went on like that for a while, discussing the events of the night. Debriefing each other. Stiles conceded that he was justified in responding the way he did, "like a total badass," as Lydia had put it.

He assured her that she, was in fact, the badass. He thanked her for helping him earlier, and they hugged. It was funny. Up until last month he would have killed to hug Lydia Martin like this. Now it felt like something he’d done a hundred times.

"Stiles, I care about you,” she said. “Please don't ever think otherwise. Now, I'm going to go back inside and let you talk to the person who just tried to killed you."

Before Stiles could really register what she had said, Lydia stood up, smoothed out her top, and walked back through the sliding glass doors.

Stiles turned his gaze as she walked away and in her place was Derek. Stiles turned back toward the beach silently, an unspoken invitation to sit.

"Didn't know you smoked," Derek said.

Stiles offered him the blunt, but Derek shook his head. "No thanks. Werewolves can't get high. We heal too quickly."

"Unless the weed is laced with ground aconite petals," Stiles said, like it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"You're joking..." he grabbed the blunt from between stiles fingers and sniffed it gently. His eyes lit up wide. "Laura used to do this for us in New York. But it's hard. It's literally an exact science, or it's deadly."

Stiles looked amused, "Well then, I guess the question is: do you trust me?"

Derek looked at the boy for a long beat. His pale green eyes meeting Stiles' honey colored ones. Without breaking eye contact, he raised the roll to his mouth and took a few tokes, breathing in deeply.

He exhaled with a light laugh. Like he never thought he'd be smoking again.

Stiles took it back without a word, waiting for Derek to say what he came here to say.

After a few moments, the alpha spoke. "You know that wasn't me, right?"

Stiles said nothing.

"It was the wolf. It smelled another pack—an enemy pack—all over you and it went crazy. I tried to hold it back, but it took over."

But Stiles said nothing. What could he say, after all?

"Stiles I'm sorry."

Still nothing.

Derek took the teenagers hand held it in his own. And finally Stiles looked at him.

"I'm so sorry." He said one last time.

"Fuck." Stiles said aloud, " _I’m_ sorry.” “I said I would burn your house down with you in it. That was a horrible, awful thing to say, and it was a low blow. It was hateful, and your family, you didn't deserve that, and I shot you with wolfsbane, and—"

Derek's lips were on his in a second.

Stiles sort of froze in place for a minute, hands falling over Derek's where he had them twisted in Stiles' shirt. The moment Derek started to pull away Stiles chased after him, crashing their mouths together harsher and rougher than Derek had. On a normal day, Stiles would have felt stupid for the tears running down his cheeks as he made out with the single hottest guy he'd ever seen. But this wasn't a normal day. Not even fucking close.

They were hungry, devouring each other's mouths like if they let go they would starve. They were breathing each other's air, eyes squeezed shut because if they opened them this could have all been a dream. In between a chaste series of kisses, Derek found time to breath.

“Stiles,” he breathed out quickly when their mouths weren’t connected.

Stiles only made a “mmnghh” sort of noise in response. Because how could Derek be talking at a time like this? There were more important things than talking, after all.

Derek brought his hands to cover Stiles chest and slowly pushed him backward, effectively breaking the kiss. They were both panting heavily, Derek was looking at Stiles, but Stiles head was down. He looked guilty, like he thought he’d done something wrong.

“Stiles,” Derek said between gasps. “We’re both high, and making stupid decisions.”

“You think this is a stupid decision.” It was a statement, rather than a question.

“Stiles. Fuck. No. I don’t. But I need to make sure this is what you actually want. Okay? This. Us,” he gestured between the two of them.

“Of course it is,” he said as he grabbed back onto Derek. He never knew he could want to kiss another person so badly.

Derek let the kiss continue for a few seconds longer than he should have, before he was pulling them apart again. “Stiles, I mean it. We have to talk about this tomorrow.”

Stiles pulled his head back, and looked down to the side. He hated how insecure he was at the drop of a hat. 20 minutes ago he was awesome, he loved himself. Now he just felt like a stupid kid again.

“Okay,” he said, sounding far more bitter than he intended. He hated that too, like his own voice was betraying him. He stood up, head rushing from the weed. Maybe Derek was right about them being high. He laughed at the prospect of it all. He was high out of his mind, and Derek was only slightly less high, and they made out for a good 5 minutes. Only 20 minutes after they almost killed each other.

“God. Our lives are so fucked up,” he said between laughs. That got Derek going too. He could listen to Derek Hale laugh for the rest of his life and never get tired of it.

“Any chance you bought Eggos?” Stiles said after a minute.

Derek’s eyebrows shot up, questioningly, “You want waffles for dinner?”

“No, I want waffles to cure the munchies.” He said, as if it were obvious. Peanut butter and jelly waffles, to be exact. It’s the best high food,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Derek still didn’t seem convinced.

“C’mon,” Stiles said, helping him to his feet. “You’re gonna love it.”

 

The two ignored the mess from earlier as they went to the kitchen. Stiles popped the frozen waffles in the toaster, and got out the peanut butter, knife, paper plates, and butter. Derek got out the jelly, his idea of helping in the kitchen apparent once again.

When a few of the others trickled into the kitchen to see what was happening, Lydia wisely guided them out. “Move along,” she had said, “Nothing to see here.” Stiles and Derek were both grateful for her in the moment.

After they had eaten, giggling more so than having any real conversation, Derek decided he loved the waffles.

“I told you, Sourwolf,” Stiles said. Derek only nodded in agreement.

When Stiles moved walked to the couch and began clearing off the extra pillows, Derek watched him, like he was unsure of what he wanted to say.

He finally walked over behind Stiles and rested his forehead on Stiles shoulder. Stiles cocked his head, questioningly, and Derek gently wrapped his hand around Stiles bicep.

“C’mon,” he said quietly, “You’re not sleeping on the couch when I have a queen sized bed all to myself.”

Stiles turned to face him, his mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed.

Derek just nodded, a silent reassurance of his invitation.

Within a few short minutes, he found himself in Derek’s bed. His teeth were brushed and he’d put on his typical sleepwear, gym shorts and a T-shirt. He didn’t normally sleep in a T-shirt, but he figured it seemed appropriate. Or at least less inappropriate.

Derek appeared from the bathroom wearing the same, turning off the light and climbing in bed next to stiles. They laid in silence for a while, both lying on their backs, about a foot and a half of empty space between them.

Derek was the first to speak. “I’m sorry I made you have a panic attack.”

Stiles sat up and looked at him. The moonlight shone in through the window, allowing him to see just a rough outline of Derek. Stiles face was questioning. He felt guilty, for some reason he didn’t understand. He felt bad that Derek felt bad, he supposed. Before he could ask, Derek spoke again.

“I overheard you and Isaac talking this morning,” he said.

“It’s not your fault,” Stiles supplied instinctively.

“Maybe not,” Derek said. “But it was my doing.” He laid back down after that, resuming his position on his back.

“Do you actually sleep on your back?” He asked Derek.

He chuckled, “No, do you?”

“Nope,” said Stiles, emphasizing the popping sound on the P. “I don’t sleep with a shirt on, either,” he added.

“I don’t sleep with shorts on,” Derek confessed. The two laughed amongst themselves again. Derek suggested that if they were going to share a bed, they should at least be comfortable. Stiles agreed, and they shed their unwanted clothing, both turning on their left sides, scooting slightly closer to one another. Stiles was nervous, and he knew Derek could sense it. He wished he knew how Derek was feeling. He was probably calm as ever; the guy didn’t really have a worrying disposition. Who was Stiles kidding? How could Derek freaking Hale ever want to be with a guy like Stiles? But his doubts receded as Derek slowly brought his hand up, running the back of it lightly over Stiles hair.

Stiles leaned into the touch, his body scooting back closer to Derek’s. The alpha made the final move, wrapping his arm Stiles torso and pulling his back against his chest. His skin was soft, and warm, and Derek couldn’t help but nuzzling his face into the back of Stiles neck.

“God, you smell amazing,” he said after a deep inhale through his nose.

“I smell like weed and sweat, dude,” he said back. “I smell gross. I feel gross.”

“Not to me,” Derek whispered. “You always smell good to me.”

Stiles would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat. Or three. It may have stopped beating all together. In fact, in that moment, he might have been dead.

“It’s okay,” Derek said softly. He planted a kiss against Stiles’ neck and let his mouth linger there far too long. “I’ve got you.”

Stiles was asleep in no time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is where the fic is headed. I loved the light feeling it had in the first several chapters, but I had to throw in an antagonist. I realize Theo and Braeden are extremely out of character, but I love them, and wanted to include them somehow. What do you guys think they have in store for our young wolf pack? Let me know your ideas, and what you think of the fic so far! As always, you guys rock! Until next time... Enjoy! =]


	10. Then the Morning Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek face each other after the events of last night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I know it's been a while, but hopefully this long chapter will be worth the wait. Enjoy!

Run. Keep running. Faster. Hide or run. Hide or run. Up a tree? No. You’ll be trapped. You’ll die in that tree. You will _not_ climb up a tree. Just. Keep. Running.

“Oh, Derek?” A sweet, sing-songy voice carried out into the woods.

_Shit_. They were closer now. She was closer now.

Two arrows flew by his head, another grazed over his right shoulder; the burn he felt as it nicked him was just the motivation he needed to keep going. The smoke from the fire had even reached this far into the woods. It stung at his eyes, and it burned at his throat as he sucked in a breath, his body _pleading_ with him to rest. His mind begging him not to.

The engines revved and he knew they were getting closer. They’d brought out the ATVs, just for him.

He ran harder and faster. Trying anything to keep his mind off of Laura. They wouldn’t have caught up to her. Couldn’t have. She was the fastest person he knew. And now that she was an alpha… there’s no way. She’s safe. _She got away._

C’mon Derek. You can do it. You can get away too. You’re losing them. You’re almost to the clearing. Almost to the edge of town. They won’t chase you into town, it’s too risky.

Just as he could see the gas station at the edge of town appearing through the thicket, from behind a tree emerged Kate, standing proud as ever. He was moving too quickly to stop or avoid her. He was headed straight for her. She pulled out a crossbow and aimed it straight at his head and he just barrel toward her. The last thing he heard before impact was her voice.

“Hey there, cutie.”

 

Derek jolted awake. _Just a bad dream, Derek. You’re fine._ His heart was pounding, and he was covered in sweat. His shirt was practically stuck to him like a layer of skin. The sheets were damp too.

Before he could fully understand what was happening, he realized that his bed smelled nice. Really, _really_ nice. He leaned into the smell instinctively, and his nose bumped into the back of Stiles neck.

_Oh. Right. That happened._

Somehow the boy had managed to remain asleep through Derek’s morning theatrics, and the last thing he wanted to do was wake him. He gently scooted out of bed, but not before making a note of how peaceful Stiles looked when he slept. Mouth slightly agape, a tiny bit of drool pooling on the pillowcase, his wrist hanging over the edge of the bed. The way Derek’s heart gave a small flitter at the sight of a sleeping Stiles Stilinski was only the third most problematic thing to happen in the past 24 hours.

He peeled off his T-shirt and made his way to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The other door connecting to Cora’s room was already closed. _Great._

He’d forgotten about his sister. He’d forgotten about everyone else in the house when he decided to play sandman with Stiles. After they got really high. After Stiles almost killed him. After he almost killed Stiles.

_“Fuck,”_ he muttered under his breath. Every ounce of his better judgment went out the window when it came to Stiles. His composure. His rules. His self-control. Everything he’d worked so hard for. Everything Laura taught him back in New York when his anchor was gone and he couldn’t control his shifts. The only facets of himself that even resembled a somewhat-decent alpha werewolf. Gone. Because of one, hyperactive teenager, with a smart mouth and beautiful, brown eyes and – _NO_.

He ran his hands over his face and looked at himself in the mirror. “What have you gotten yourself into, Hale?”

He went to take a shower, but he accidentally kicked Stiles’ bag. _One day into this thing and you’re already leaving messes. Real nice, Stiles._

He picked up the bag and went to set it on the toilet seat, but the zipper was left open, causing almost all of the bags contents to topple onto the floor. This morning was really turning out to be something special.

As Derek started to collect the contents of the bag from the floor – T-shirts, phone charger, toothpaste – he paused when he saw a few other things.

A sleek, black magazine, this one with real bullets, that Derek could only assume when to a real gun, unlike the one Stiles had turned on him last night. There was also a leather-bound book. It was small and worn, and looked incredibly old and fragile. On the back cover was scrawled with a sharpie “Property of Alan Deaton.”

Derek figured he’d better not open it, but he did wonder what it was. And why Stiles had it.

Against his better judgment, he searched through the rest of Stiles’ bag.

He found small glass jars of various herbs and nature-like items, a black satin bag full of mountain ash, a small vile of purple liquid that Derek recognized as essence of wolfsbane, a lighter, the rest of Stiles weed, another small jar of aconite-laced alcohol, and a notebook full of different hand-written recipes in what was clearly Stiles handwriting.

At first, Derek was just pulling things out without thinking. Then it dawned on him what Stiles was up to. These weren’t just random items; these were just things that Stiles shouldn’t have. That no one should have, unless they're a witch or a – an emissary.

Derek closed his eyes and drew in a sad breath. Deaton was training him to be an emissary. And man, Derek was pissed.

Pissed because 1. Deaton should have told – no – asked Derek for permission to train a member of his pack. 2. There’s no way in Hell Deaton expressed to Stiles how dangerous it was. The kid needed to finish high school alive and intact. 3. Derek was the alpha of tHIs PACK GOD DAMMIT AND DEATON ANSWERS TO HIM NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND.

He had to talk to Stiles about this. He also had to talk to Stiles about the other stuff that was going on in their lives. The other pack, the fighting last night, the… chemistry… between the two of them.

Nothing was ever just easy, was it?

Derek climbed in the shower and let the warm water wash over him. Not three minutes into the shower, however, he heard the bathroom door open and then shut. He peered through the glass and saw Stiles. Standing there in front of the mirror in his sleep shorts.

“Uh. Stiles?” He called out.

“…Yeah?” He answered back, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“You uh… you know I’m in here, right? Like. In the shower? Right now?” Derek was almost certain he wasn’t still dreaming, but pinched awkwardly at some skin on his belly just in case.

“Uh. Yep.” Stiles said simply.

This kid was gonna be the death of him.

 

***

 

Unlike the last time Stiles woke up, he now knew exactly where he was and how he got there. Derek’s bed was comfortable. And it smelled like Derek. A smell, by the way, that Stiles quickly learned he was crazy about. He scanned the room to be sure he was alone, and scooted over to Derek’s side of the bed, laying his head on Derek’s pillow. It smelled woodsy and musky. Like humid cedar or pine, mixed with the light scent of Derek’s deodorant. He knew he was a freak for smelling the guys pillow, but hey, YOLO.

What he didn’t understand, however, is why Derek was not still in Derek’s bed with him. This got Stiles’ mind working. _Did he leave? I bet he left. Is he pissed? Ugh. He’s probably freaked out. Better yet, he’s probably off somewhere having some Derek-typical, emotionally constipated, stoic pout party where he and all his broodiness can bask in his own self –_ oh.

The shower turned on, and Stiles realized that Derek was simply taking a shower. Not doing any of those things that Stiles had worried about.

But was Stiles going to say to Derek? Why the Hell did he and Derek get high last night and act like nothing had happened between them? That didn’t sit well with Stiles. He didn’t know if he could handle it if Derek came out of that shower and acted like everything between them was all hunky-dory. He knew that Derek had just lost control, and he also knew that it scared the shit out of him. Not for fear of his own safety. No, he was pretty damn capable of handling himself when it came to werewolves. He figured he’d always been okay, but thanks to the training he was receiving from Deaton and Argent, he felt more confident about himself than ever.

He just didn’t know how to tell Derek. Deaton had told Stiles how dangerous it was to mess around with magic, but Stiles could see the excitement in Deaton’s eyes when he told stiles he had a spark like no one he’s ever seen.

And it was about damn time that something started going right in Stiles life. He deserved it, dammit. He deserved some good. He deserved to be more than just a pathetic human. Now, stealing Deaton’s grimoire and raiding his supply room was probably not Stiles best decision. But he figured if this trip was as lame as he expected it to be, he could at least practice some things.

But yeah, he and Derek definitely needed to talk. Before he knew it, Stiles found himself slowly turning the bathroom door handle to see if it was unlocked. It was. And yep, Derek was taking a shower. Stiles tended to do things on a whim. He figured, what better way to talk to Derek than through a shower door, where he couldn’t actually see him. And where Derek couldn’t leave if he didn’t like the direction the conversation was headed. _10 points to Slytherin_ , he thought cheekily.

“Uh. Stiles?” Derek called out. There was no going back, now.

“Yeah?” He replied. He didn’t mean for it to sound so much like a question.

“You uh… you know I’m in here, right? Like. In the shower? Right now?” _What a dork._

“Uh. Yep.” Stiles said simply. He figured this level of dialogue couldn’t possibly go on for much longer.

When Derek said nothing, Stiles got nervous and began fumbling around in his bag for his toothpaste and toothbrush. “Just came in here to brush my teeth.” He said awkwardly.

“Oh,” Derek said flatly. “Look, Stiles, about last night…” he started.

“What about last night?” Stiles mumbled through his toothbrush. Stiles figured he was about to say something like ‘Sorry, Stiles, we were high, and acting stupid, and we shouldn’t have kissed and I shouldn’t have asked you to sleep in my bed with me, etc.’

But instead, Derek went a different route. “I would never try to hurt you on purpose.”

Stiles stopped his brushing and looked at his steamy reflection in the mirror, hinging onto Derek’s every word.

“I just. I’ve been having trouble lately, controlling the shift, and then caught a scent of another pack. Another _alpha,_ at that. And it went crazy and I… I could have really hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

Stiles spit the toothpaste into the sink, and rinsed the suds out with water.

Derek continued talking through the shower door, and from what Stiles could see through the frosted glass, he wasn’t actually showering; he was just sort of leaning against the tile.

“And if you don’t want to talk to me again, or if you don’t want to be in the pack anymore I totally-“

There was no time for Stiles to argue or tell Derek how stupid he was before he had made his way across the bathroom and was sliding open the shower door. He really wasn’t ready for what he saw. He knew Derek was gorgeous, but _wet Derek?_ Wet Derek was immaculate. His dark hair glistened, as it was weighed down against his head. Droplets of water rolled down his chest and abs, and his dick and balls hung low in the shower heat. The dark hair on his chest was laid flat against his skin, and the shampoo he was using flooded Stiles senses.

When Stiles opened the door, he expected Derek to look shocked or embarrassed. Instead, he looked… honest. Vulnerable. A bit guilty. And deep in his green eyes glowed the tiniest, smallest flick of lustful.

They stood there in silence for a moment, just sort of staring at each other. Stiles cheeks flushed a little as Derek looked over his bare chest, and down to his shorts and legs.

“Dude. You talk too much.” Stiles said, sliding his shorts down his waste and kicking off his boxers. He felt exposed, keen to the fact that his body paled in comparison to Derek’s. But Stiles did things on a whim. This was just another one of those things.

He climbed in the shower and slid the door closed behind him. They only stood there at first, just a few inches apart, Stiles eye’s never leaving Derek’s. And Derek’s eyes only leaving Stiles’ to glance down at Stiles’s dark happy trail, following it all the way to Stiles’ package. Before he could even make his way back up to Stiles’ eyes, the boy was closing the distance between them. Derek reacted quickly, pulling Stiles’ body flush with his own and crashing their lips together.

Stiles felt the rush of electricity all throughout his body. He couldn’t get any closer to Derek if he tried, and _man_ , did he want to try. Stiles hand’s wandered over Derek’s strong back, massaging and scratching and memorizing every inch of it. Before he could reach any more, Derek broke them apart, trying to catch his breath.

“Stiles, stop,” he panted out.

“In your dreams,” he replied before cupping a hand around Derek’s neck and bringing their lips together again.

Stiles huffed when Derek broke them apart again. “Stiles I mean it. What are we doing? What is this? This can’t just be a fuck. I. I can’t just… I don’t want this to be just a one time thing,” he said, his eyes averted to the floor.

“I don’t either??” He said incredulously. “This is kind of awesome and it’s only been 90 seconds!”

Derek chuckled at that, and looked at Stiles in a way that he couldn’t exactly identify. Pity? Fondness? He wasn’t sure. “Stiles, we have a lot to talk about.”

“Let’s talk later then,” he said, as he initiated more kissing. It lasted only a few seconds before Derek was gently pushing him off. Again.

“Stiles…”

“Look. If you want me to leave, I’ll leave.” He said almost forcefully. “But you have to say it. You have to tell me, right now, that you don’t want me here. In this shower. With you.”

Derek looked at him for a moment, brows slightly furrowed, mouth hanging open ever so slightly. Stiles didn’t know if he was ever going to say anything.

“Ah, fuck it,” Derek finally said. He placed his right hand behind stiles neck and the other at his waste, and gracefully pinned him against the shower wall where he began shamelessly attacking his mouth once more.

It was intense. His stubble scratched lightly at Stile’s lips and cheeks and it drove Stiles insane. He wanted more. He wanted more than the crashing of tongues and teeth and lips. He wanted more of the sculpted, firm, hairy body that was pressed against his. He wanted so much more. He just wasn’t sure what was left.

When they were both almost of out breath, they pulled apart again, Derek’s thumb running smoothly over stiles’ cheek. Stiles reveled in the feeling of Derek’s body pinned against his own, his thumb ghosting down Stiles’ face, running over his lips and tugging at them lightly.

His eyes met Derek’s and until that moment, he didn’t know that someone’s eyes could physically turn him on. His pupils were blown wide and specks of jade and light blue were drawing him in like a siren did to a ship.

Derek started chuckling to himself again, and lowered his head in laughter.

“What? What is it?” Stiles asked.

“I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet today.” He said, in slight embarrassment.

Stiles smiled brightly and wrapped his hands in Derek’s hair and pulled him back in for a kiss. “I don’t even care,” he said straight into Derek’s mouth.

Derek moved his body back to where it was, flush with Stiles’. He was so hard. Stiles hadn’t been this hard in a very long time, _if ever_ , and the only thing he wanted to do was take care of Derek. He wanted to worship every inch of the man, not caring if he received any attention in return. It didn’t matter. Derek was a god, and Stiles would get on his knees and choke on Derek’s dick if he asked him to. He would jack himself off in the process if Derek would let him. Sex had never felt like this before. Not for Stiles, anyway. Sex was always great, don’t get him wrong. Even bad sex was better than no sex. But this? What he was doing right now with Derek. This was better than anything.

Before Stiles had the change to speak, Derek lined up their erections and pressed into Stiles so hard, he almost couldn’t breath, but in the best way. He couldn’t help the moan that escaped from his mouth, and honestly, he didn’t want to. It felt good to let go.

Derek smiled again and pressed himself against Stiles once more, evoking another sinful sound from the slightly smaller boy. Stiles wasn’t sure what was happening at this point, all he felt was pure bliss. His hands were snaking through Derek’s dark hair and he soon found that Derek was very into hair pulling. Hearing Derek moan from something Stiles had done to him was the ultimate turn on. Knowing he was making another person feel that good was a power that Stiles was destined to get drunk on.

Before long, Derek’s hands had wrapped around both of their dicks and he was tugging, and twisting them, rutting up into his own fist as Stiles did the same. Stiles head fell back against the cool tile, exposing his neck to Derek, who latched onto it immediately. The man was sucking and biting up and down Stiles neckline and he’d never felt so good.

That, combined with the strong hands around their cocks, and Derek’s chest rubbing against Stiles’, had him on the verge of orgasm. Oh, and that _beard_. Derek Hale’s stubble was the sexiest thing Stiles had ever felt and he knew right then and there he would never get enough of it.

“Der-fuck-Derek,” he gasped out. “I’m cl-close.”

“Mm me too,” the alpha mumbled into his neck.

With a few more moans from both of them, and a couple more thrusts, Stiles was spilling his load all over Derek’s dick and hand. It was like Derek could sense what he needed to do to stroke Stiles through his orgasm. It was never too much, always just right amount of pressure and movement. Before long Derek had come as well, Stiles pulling Derek impossibly close as his orgasm rocked its way through his body.

They stayed like that for what felt like an hour; Stiles back against the shower wall and Derek’s body leaning into his, their foreheads touching. Their breaths were quick and intense, like they’d just ran a marathon. They may as well have.

Before either of them could say anything, there was a ponding at the door.

“Really, Derek?” Cora screamed. “In my shower??”

The two couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re terrible people,” Stiles said between chuckles.

“Eh,” Derek said passively, “could be worse.”

“And it’s my shower too, CORA,” he added.

“Fuck! Will she tell the others? Scott doesn’t know I’m.” He paused. “Well he doesn’t know. And I just got jerked off by his alpha. Ugh this is so messed up. What are we gonna tell the others and--“

Derek gave him a chaste kiss and put his finger up to Stiles’ lips. “Shhh,” he said reassuringly. “Stiles, it’s fine. It’s gonna be fine. But uh… you should probably know… you’re in a house full of werewolves.” He paused. Stiles looked at him even more questioningly. “As of 20 minutes ago… we kind of told them by having loud sex in the shower.”

“Well, fuck.” Stiles said.

 

The two had taken their time drying off, Stiles prolonging the inevitability of going downstairs to face his pack. Derek seemed to be supportive of his concerns, but apparently didn’t feel the same. Stiles guessed that being the alpha had its perks, including not giving a fuck about his pack hearing him have sex.

After Stiles was clothed and about to head downstairs, Derek grabbed onto his wrist and began pulling him back. He gave the older man a questioning look.

“Stiles… before we go down there I need to ask you about something.” Derek sounded unsure of himself, which was an entirely new behavior for the world’s cockiest alpha.

“Okay…?” Stiles said.

“What are you doing with all of those herbs and stuff? The mountain ash? That book with Deaton’s name on it? Why do you have all that?”

Stiles almost felt guilty. Almost, being the key word. Because in reality, he was pissed. “What the fuck? You’re going through my stuff now?” He asked Derek angrily.

Derek looked shocked. He clearly wasn’t expecting that reaction from Stiles. “What?” He started. “No, I…”

“You _what_ , Derek? Accidentally opened my bag and unintentionally examined the contents?” His arms were moving when he spoke, like they often did when he argued.

“How long has Deaton been training you, huh?” Derek spat back., ignoring Stiles’ accusations. “How long have you two been going behind my back?”

“Behind your back? Jesus _Christ_ , Derek, not everything is about you! God forbid I actually spend my time learning something I enjoy. Something, by the way, that I happen to be really good at!” He was practically screaming now. His eyes were wide, looking at Derek incredulously, like he couldn’t even believe they were having this conversation.

“Deaton is MY emissary, he answers to me, not the other way around. He had no right to get you involved in this shit. It’s dangerous, Stiles!”

That really had him on edge. “You think I don’t know that?” He asked incredulously. “You think I don’t understand the risks? If you haven’t noticed, I spend most of my time with a pack of fucking werewolves; every other month something is trying to kill us! I’ve saved your ass just as many times as you’ve saved mine. I mean, fuck. A 10,000-year-old spirit took over my body for _months,_ and I came out just fine! You really think I can’t handle myself?” Now he was actually screaming.

Derek’s eyes flashed red for a moment. Though Stiles wasn’t a wolf, challenging an alpha was something Derek’s wolf did not take lightly. “You want to know what I think?” Derek hissed. “I think you're reckless. Impulsive. You have little to no regard for your own safety, and you think you’re fucking invincible. You think you can do whatever the fuck you want, no matter who it hurts! You’re _selfish_. And right now, you’re acting like an immature little kid.”

Stiles was silent, torn somewhere between hurt and pissed. If there was one thing he hated, it was being treated like a kid. He’d done some pretty grown up things in his short life. He’d been through more shit than most people go through in a lifetime. After almost a full minute of silence, Derek spoke again. His expression had softened to a degree, and he’d moved to sit on the edge of his bed.

“I’m sorry. I just… I worry about you.” He said hesitantly.

Stiles wasn’t ready to push this behind them. Not yet, anyway. Derek didn’t get to treat him like shit and then apologize. He didn’t get excused for this.

“No. You just want to control me,” Stiles said back.

Derek huffed out a long sigh, “Stiles-“

“Don’t,” he interjected. He turned and walked to the door, stopping just before he pulled it open. “Do me a favor Derek. Next time you want to invade my privacy, tell me about it before we have sex. Maybe then it won’t sting so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me! I'm a sucker for Stiles and Derek having a semi-dysfunctional relationship. I promise everything will work out in the end, but their personalities are way too different without them having some major relationship bumps here and there.   
> On a personal note, I'm really not any less busy than I was a few weeks ago, but I took some time to write this in order to stay sane. Writing is a big part of my self-care, which is why I really appreciate the feedback I've gotten from this fic. So leave me some comments and let me know what you thought! =]


	11. Chaos Has Come Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day at the beach goes awry. Stiles shows everyone a new side of himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a minute since I last updated, but I want you to know I haven't forgotten about this fic! So here's a super long chapter to repay you for not updating. I have a lot of ideas for our pack's future and they WILL be played out. Take note: this chapter is a lot different than the others, and takes the story in a different direction, but I hope you'll enjoy!

It had been a strange day, that much was clear. Stiles had marched downstairs after he and Derek’s fight, and was instantly bombarded with questions from the pack. Lydia thankfully came to his rescue and everyone agreed that the topic of he and Derek was taboo until stated otherwise. What hurt Stiles most was that Scott was nowhere to be found. Even Allison hadn’t heard from him since he’d stormed out of the house that morning. She explained to Stiles that after everyone became _aware_ of the activities upstairs between Stiles and their alpha, the reactions were all a bit different.

Jackson was surprised. “Who knew Stilinksi could pull someone like Derek Hale? I mean, the guy is way out of his league.”

Danny was admittedly jealous. “Yeah… _Way_ out of his league.”

Erica and Isaac were happy that their alpha was happy, and Boyd simply shrugged and continued playing something on his phone.

Scott, on the other hand, was sort of angry. Allison didn’t approve of his reaction, but she could sort of understand it. At the end of the day, Stiles was still his best friend, so why hadn’t he told him?

Cora was only surprised that Derek hadn’t told the pack more about the sexuality of born werewolves. She explained that born wolves fall in love with a person, not their gender. While most werewolves stick to the status quo of society and go after the opposite gender, it’s not all that rare to see packs with mated alpha males or mated alpha females. A werewolf’s biggest focus in life is their pack, and packs can be expanded through reproduction, or turning humans. It doesn’t really make a difference. Pack is family. And family is pack.

At some point after their argument, Derek had slipped out of the house undetected. Once that was brought to Stiles’ attention, he turned visibly anxious, nearly on the verge of a panic attack. His eyes started scanning around the room nervously, like the answer to his worries were on the kitchen counter.

“Hey,” Lydia said reassuringly. She cupped his face her hands, and used her thumbs to rub small circles over his cheeks. “You are not gonna lose it like this, do you understand. You are better than this, Stiles. You have nothing right now to panic about. We. Are not. At a panicking stage, do you understand me?”

Allison looked unsure of the banshee’s methods, but Stiles blinked away a few tears, and nodded his head. He seemed to pull himself together rather quickly, actually.

“Y-you're right,” Stiles said, getting to his feet and shaking off his anxiety. “You’re absolutely right. I’m tired of being this person. I’m so fucking tired of feeling helpless and weak all the time, even when I know I’m not. If Derek wants to avoid me, then let him. We came here to do some pack bonding, and god dammit that’s what we’re going to do!”

He hoped his little speech sounded convincing enough. It was just as much for him as it was for the rest of them. He looked out onto the back porch where the rest of the pack was located. They seemed to be having a normal conversation, laughing and hanging out. Maybe no one cared if he was into guys? Maybe this wasn’t the end of his life. He couldn’t quite shake the buzzing feeling that ran through his body, but maybe – just maybe – this wasn’t the end of the world. He turned back to Lydia who hugged him reassuringly. And much to his surprise, Allison joined in as well.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you both,” he added, looking toward Allison. “Just for being here, and letting me work this out. And for not thinking I’m gross or weird or not normal.”

“Stiles, you were never normal,” Allison said with a smile. “But I’ve always liked you anyway.”

“Really?” Stiles asked. He honestly didn’t think she liked him at all. “I honestly didn’t think you liked me at all,” He said apprehensively.

“Stiles are you kidding? If anything I was jealous of you. You had Scott, and the first day I was here I that,” she said, the tears visibly pooling in the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t mean to take Scott away from you, have to know that.”

Stiles eyes softened, and he looked to Lydia. She sort of nodded encouragingly, as if to say _C’mon man, say something back to the girl!_

He hugged her again, just he and Allison this time. “I was jealous of you too. You were beautiful, and Scott wanted to be around you, and so did Lydia, and I felt like you were… like you were taking over my place in the group or something,” Stiles eventually stammered out.

Before Allison could say anything else, Lydia stepped between them. “Okay. As much as I love a good heart to heart, this is getting repetitive. It’s clear that you two don’t hate each other and we’re all friends. Let’s just move along,” She said with utter nonchalance. “I’m thinking what we need is a beach volleyball day? I’ll grab the boys to do the heavy lifting. Allison, grab the towels and sunscreen. Stiles, grab your werewolf alcohol and pack the coolers with beer. Ill see you outside in 20.”

And with that, she simply marched out back to round up the troops.

“She would have made a great drill sergeant,” Allison said.

“Agreed.” Stiles replied.

 

***

 

It had turned into a nearly perfect day. That is, if you forget about Scott and Derek acting like douchebags and storming off. All Stiles knew is that he was having a great time. The sun was out, but it wasn’t too hot. A nice breeze wafted off the crashing waves. The sand was warm between his toes, and they were listening to an early 2000s summer hits radio station on spottily. It didn’t get any better than Ja Rule and Ashanti on the beach.

His team of Lydia, Danny, and Cora were kicking Jackson, Erica, Allison, and Isaac’s ass at volleyball. Boyd was acting as referee, which really meant he was lying out in the sun relaxing with his headphones in.

He’d had a few beers, but was by no means drunk. He was at a very pleasant level of buzzed, with a smile that wouldn’t leave his face for anything. Not even Jackson’s weak attempts at humor.

“So Stilinski, now that you're fucking Hale, does that mean you’re the pack mom?”

“Actually Jackson it does,” Stiles retorted, “and it means you're grounded.” His grin grew wicked and he snapped his fingers. A small jolt of electricity ran through Jackson’s legs and feet and he fell backwards on his bottom.

“Holy shit!” Exclaimed Erica. “You’re actually magic? “How did you learn how to do that??”

“It’s a static electricity spell that I learned from Deaton’s grimoire,” Stiles said. “Took me almost a week to get it right though,” he added.

“Hold on,” Lydia said, she turned down the music and stepped forward. “Deaton gave you his grimoire?”

“Uhm. Yeah, well I sort of borrowed it,” Stiles mumbled under his breath.

“Stiles!” Lydia scolded. “A grimoire is an incredibly personal item! Deaton is going to be pissed. I’m surprised he hasn’t shown up here to get it back!”

“Lydia, chillax, okay? I’ll have it back before he even knows it’s gone. I wasn’t learning enough. We’d been talking about herbs for weeks!” Stiles defended. “And besides, he told me I need to start being more assertive. I asserted myself. Took my teachings into my own hands. He’ll get over it.”

“I gotta hand it to you Stilinksi, that electricity shit was pretty badass,” Jackson said from his spot on the ground. “But if you do it again I’ll eat you alive.”

Stiles looked around, and it seems Lydia wasn’t the only one showing concern. Cora looked judgey, but remained silent. Allison looked hesitant to provide her comments as well. Looking back, it should have been a bad sign that Jackson was the only source of support he was getting on this front, but hindsight was 20/20 after all.

“Look, guys. I’ve got this under control. There’s nothing to worry about on the Magic!Stiles front, okay?”

The group looked between themselves and reluctantly conceded.

Stiles clapped his hands together, and rubbed them excitedly. “Okay! See! Nothing to worry about! Now let’s get back to the game!”

 

“Sounds like fun,” said a cool and cocky voice. The group looked back toward the voice in unison, and though Stiles recognized the voice immediately, the sight was unnerving to say the least. There stood Theo and Braeden, alongside a man Stiles had never seen before. The man stood tall and proud. In his left hand he held a cane, and his right hand was gripped tightly around a very bloodied and bruised Scott McCall.

“Care if we join you?” Added Braeden with a disgusting smirk.

“Braeden?” Allison asked unsurely.

The older girl looked at Allison with an unreadable expression, and the man’s grip on Scott tightened. He howled in pain, and it broke Stiles’ heart.

Allison let out some sort of scream. It may have been Scott’s name, or perhaps just some manifestation of her fear. Scott looked as though he was drifting in and out of consciousness, like if the man took his claws out of Scott’s shoulder he would collapse.

“I’m sure you have many questions,” the man finally spoke. The words fought their way out of his mouth through a clenched jaw, and Stiles thought he detected an English accent. “My name is Deucalion.” _Yep. Definitely a Brit._

“-What do you want with him!” Allison interjected.

Deucalion only chuckled. “With him? Ha. No love, I have no intentions for your little boyfriend here. It’s your alpha I seek. One Derek Hale.”

Stiles heard a rustling of sand and dirt behind him, and Cora was gone in the blink of an eye. He briefly wondered what type of person he had to be to scare off Coram but he had priorities, dammit.

“What do you want with Derek?” Stiles spat quickly. His nostrils flared and he walked a few feet closer to the intruding posse. In an instant, Theo had moved impossibly quick to block stiles from walking any further. With a cheeky smile, he put his hands against Stiles chest and stopped him in his tracks. “Hey there, cutie,” he said with a wink. “How ya been?”

Stiles slowly began to realize what was going on. Theo was _bad. He was a bad guy._ Stiles made out with a bad guy. And his girlfriend. He mentally cursed himself, and ignored Theo’s sociopathic snark. Deucalion seemed unamused, and continued speaking.

“Your alpha and I have unfinished business,” he said, his eyes briefly flashing red. “Which brings us to our current predicament, and the reason for my visit. Where. Is. Derek. Hale.”

Stiles looked around to the various members of their pack, and tried to take in the expressions on their faces. Shock. Anger. Betrayal. There was just too much going on. He has to think. He had to think of a way out of this.

_C’mon Stiles, what do you know. What are the facts?_

_-Derek is missing._

_-Deucalion wants him. Probably to kill him._

_-Deucalion has Scott._

_-They need to get Scott back and somehow convince this man that they don’t know Derek’s current whereabouts._

“We don’t know where Derek is right now,” Stiles said lamely. _Great job, Stiles. Real convincing._

The large man cocked an eyebrow and smiled a wicked grin. “Now, now,” he began, “You can’t possibly expect me to believe that.” His grip on Scott tightened and his claws dug deeper into Scott

Before Stiles could say anything, it was Allison who spoke up. She was crying now, and her voice shook with every word. “We don’t! We don’t know. We don’t know where he is. Just. Please. Please don’t hurt him. Just don’t hurt Scott. ”

Stiles had never seen Allison fall apart like that. She was always so collected and brave, but she looked terrified. Pleading, like her life was on the line. He supposed that maybe it was in a way.

Out of nowhere, Jackson, Erica, Isaac, and Boyd charged toward the man. Theo and Braeden took out Derek’s betas effortlessly. Even Braeden held her own. A rounding kick to Isaac’s face took him down almost instantly and Theo had an even easier time throwing Erica and Boyd to the ground. Only Jackson made it to Deucalion, who picked Jackson up with ease and threw his body to the ground. Stiles could hear his bones snap against the earth.

“Cute.” Deucalion began, “So none of you know the location of your alpha? Peculiar, if you ask me. What kind of man abandons his pack?”

“A better man than you!” Stiles spat. “Derek hasn’t abandoned anyone. Just because he isn’t barking orders at us 24/7 doesn’t mean he isn’t a great alpha!”

Deucalion chuckled darkly and Stiles could practically feel the chill in the air. “This ones got spunk,” he said to Theo and Braeden. “And I sense that he also has… spark? Am I right about that, boy?”

Stiles said nothing.

Stiles clenched his jaw. He was fuming. He hated that a complete stranger could come in and upheave their lives at any given moment. He was sick of it. But Deaton had told him not to tell anyone what he was. Stiles figured now was as good a time as any to start listening to the man.

“My name is Stiles,” he said through gritted teeth. “And you need to leave.” His fists were balled up at his sides and his heart was racing.

The alpha laughed again, pain and torment amused him in a way that made Stiles’ stomach churn.

“A pack mom, are we?”

Stiles said nothing. Deucalion flashed his eyes again and seemed to examine Stiles with his wolf eyes. “More than just a pack mom it seems.”

“Enough with the idle chatter,” said Lydia. “Give us back Scott, and be on your way.” She spoke with ferocity and her demeanor was unwavering. She meant business, and it both inspired and terrified him.

“The Banshee speaks at last,” he said, the amusement clear on his face. The man was a sociopath and there was no doubt about it. “Tell me, _Ms. Martin_ , are you sensing anything macabre on this most auspicious of afternoons?”

“What I’m sensing, _Deucalion_ , is you and your little gang of Abercrombie rejects giving us back our friend, and taking your beef with Derek Hale _elsewhere_. Because it is _none_ of our business.

Erica snapped her head up at that, eyes glowing a savage color. Lydia ignored her. She wasn’t a wolf, and at the end of the day, pack loyalty meant nothing to her. She was looking out for herself, and by proxy, everyone else.

“The banshees got bark, I see,” said Braeden.

“But does she have bite?” Theo supplied with a sly smile.

Lydia wasted no time in crossing the short distance between her and Theo. It seemed she was screaming almost instantly, channeling the sound waves through her palms, and sending Theo a good 20 feet through the air. He hit the ground, rolling and twisting until gravity brought him to a stop. He didn’t get back up.

“You were saying?” She snarled at Braeden.

God. Stiles could not believe he was making out with these people less than 2 days ago.

“Jackson,” Lydia started again. “Get Danny and Allison, and take them inside.”

He looked confused. “I’m not leaving you-“

“JACKSON.”

The blonde boy didn’t dare question his girlfriend a second time. He knew that when Lydia Martin had made up her mind, there was no changing it.

Allison was reluctant to go, pleading with Lydia through silent eye contact. Jackson had to throw her over his shoulder kicking and screaming to get her to leave Scott and the others.

“Don’t worry about your darling… erm… Scott? Is it?” Deucalion said. “No, no. Scott will fair just fine. His injuries are, sadly, fatal… at the moment, anyway. But I suspect you’ll find no problem in healing him.” He looked toward Stiles with a piercing stare, like he could see right through. Like he could see all of Stiles; every last bit. His secrets. His lies. Even his fears.

“As for his little girlfriend, however…” He said.

It all happened so fast. One minute the alpha was standing in front of Stiles and Lydia by the volleyball net, the next minute Lydia was screaming. Stiles couldn’t follow everything quickly enough. Jackson let out a noise – it was something between a gasp and a shriek. He looked over to see Allison on the ground. Jackson was crouched around her. Deucalion, Theo, and Braeden had disappeared without a trace.

Lydia was running toward Allison, screaming for Stiles to help her, but Stiles found himself running toward Scott. The sky had darkened considerably with cloud coverage, but he only barely noticed. It was like bombs had gone off all around him. His senses were all fuzzy. He couldn’t quite comprehend why he was applying pressure to Scott’s gushing neck wound, but he also knew he couldn’t stop. He was completely disconnected from himself. Someone was screaming his name, but he didn’t know who. It was chaos.

Somehow he registered that Erica was next to him, screaming his name only an inch away from his ear. He saw her hand coming but could do nothing to avoid the smack that came with it.

Everything flooded back at once. He was processing at a normal speed again, and Erica was shouting questions at him.

“Stiles! What. Do. You. Need???”

_Fuck. Deep breath. Okay._

_“_ STILES!” She shouted once more. He looked at her, their eyes lingering for a moment before he glanced back down at Scott, Scott’s bloody and sinuous neck, and his own hands covered in blood.

“My bag,” Stiles said simply.

“What? What bag?” The blonde girl looked absolutely frantic. Whether it was because she was scared or worried, Stiles didn’t know.

“My bag, Erica! It’s black. Upstairs. In the bathroom. It’s full of herbs. And grab Deaton’s grimoire. It’s on the nightstand.” He shouted in staccato.

When she didn’t start running toward the house, Stiles shouted at her again. “NOW!”

She took off in a blur, moving faster than any human ever could. Stiles looked around again. Jackson and Lydia were still perched over Allison’s body, and Jackson was the one calling his name now. He really hoped she wasn’t dead.

_Where the fuck is Derek._

Danny wasn’t too far away, and Isaac was even closer. The taller boy was clearly in shock. His eyes were wide, and he was completely unable to move – his gaze fixated on Scott.

“Isaac,” Stiles said to his friend.

There was no response.

“ISAAC!” Stiles shouted. He was frozen in place, he looked terrified.

“Is he gonna die?” was all that the boy could muster, his eyes never leaving Scott’s bloodied form.

Stiles didn’t have the energy to yell at him again – he was on the verge of tears himself. But Scott would kill him if he cried right now. He smiled a bit at that, unaware how deranged he looked.

“Isaac I need you to go get the beach towels from over by the net. Can you do that?” Stiles asked.

Isaac looked as though he was about to say something, but instead, he ran to the towels where they were piled neatly under the post of the volleyball net.

“Danny? You with me buddy?” Stiles asked the other boy.

Danny nodded his head succinctly, and muttered something along the lines of “Yeah.”

Stiles let out a small sigh of relief that not everyone around him was completely dissociated. “Okay. I need you to take the towels that Isaac is bringing, and I need you to use them to apply pressure to Scott’s neck.”

Danny said nothing, and only nodded in return. He was clearly startled, but not entirely gone.

“I need verbal confirmation, buddy,” said Stiles.

“Yeah. Yes. I can,” Danny answered, his head still nodding.

Stiles had to get to Allison. And where the Hell was Erica with his stuff? He told Danny and Isaac that he was going to check on Allison and he took over running toward the spot where Lydia and Jackson were crouched over their friend. Boyd was standing a few feet back, his concern plastered on his face.

Nothing could have prepared Stiles for what he saw when he got there. There was just so much blood. Claw marks raked across Allison’s torso from her stomach to just below her breast. And they were deep. She was lying on her back on the hard ground, her hands placed over the gash, Jackson’s hands covering hers.

Lydia was crying harder than Stiles had ever seen her, as she sat with Allison’s head in her lap, petting her hair soothingly. She was whispering small reassurances of ‘you're gonna be okay,’ but Stiles knew that she knew better than that.

“Stiles,” Lydia said softly. “She doesn’t need medical attention. She’s dying. She needs magic. She needs _you.”_

_God Dammit._

“Erica!” Stiles screamed over his shoulder toward the house. It seemed like 30 minutes had passed before she retuned with his stuff.

“Lydia, this type of magic is advanced, okay. It’s not that simple,” he tried to explain.

“Stiles do it. I don’t care what you have to do just fucking do it!” Lydia all but screamed.

Stiles held eye contact with the ginger haired girl for a single moment when it seemed like time had frozen. She was genuinely terrified. And so, _so,_ desperate. And even though he didn’t love her the way he used to, Stiles would do anything to make sure Lydia never looked like that again.

“Erica, open the book. Page 43. Fuck - maybe 34. There’s a drawing of a heart in the top left corner of the page,” said Stiles as he rummaged through his bag. Erica found the page, and Stiles had found an empty jar and was filling it with different herbs, crystals, and items from his bag. Erica read from the book while Stiles added the ingredients she named off - among which were mistletoe, and lacewing flies.

“Stiles, what are you doing?” Jackson asked. “Some kind of salve? Is this even magic?” Stiles didn’t answer; he just kept gathering everything he needed for the potion. Allison’s eyes were closed at this point, but Boyd assured them she still had a faint heartbeat.

“Lydia. There’s something you have to understand. Spells like this are dark,” Stiles explained while he was adding the final ingredients to his mixture. “Nature has a course. A _plan_ , if you will. Rerouting that plan takes a lot of energy. More energy than the earth is willing to provide without something in return.”

“What are you saying, Stiles? What do you need?” Lydia asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

He pulled a rusted, jagged knife from his bag. There were strange markings and symbols lining the handle, which appeared to be made of bone.

“Blood,” He said frankly. “I need your blood.”

He handed her the large jar that was filled about halfway with ingredients.

“Are you crazy, Stilinksi?” Jackson exclaimed. “That jar is huge, she can’t give you that much blood! Here, take mine!” Jackson held out his forearm.

Stiles shook his head, blinking away the tears that were forming in the corners of his eyes. “It can’t be your blood, Jackson. It has to be Lydia. She’s a banshee. She has a unique relationship with nature. A give and take.” The blonde boy looked confused. “The ability to predict death is a power she has, it’s an advantage: a manipulation of natural law. Shapeshifters are the opposite. They're slaves to nature. Werewolves are slaves to the moon and the earth doesn’t need your blood. It wont help. It has to be her!”

Before Jackson could argue, Lydia had grabbed the knife from Stiles’ hand and sliced a gash down her forearm. “Jackson. I’ll be okay,” she explained as the blood funneled into the jar. She was still looking off somewhere distant. Stiles thought maybe she was in shock as well. “The human body has about 4-5 liters of blood at any given time. I’m small, so lets say 4. This jar is probably about a liter. Losing 25% of your total blood volume is considered to be a class 2 hemorrhage. The worst thing that will happen is that I might lose consciousness.”

No one said anything for a minute as the jar slowly filled to the top.

As soon as it was done, Jackson grabbed the ginger-haired girl and began taking her pain away. He tore off a patch of his shirt and used it to bandage her wound.

Stiles got to work. He took the jar and began to pour a line of the mixture all around Allison’s body. Once the circle was complete, he kneeled next to her and grabbed Deaton’s grimoire from Erica.

As Stiles began reciting the incantation in the journal, the wind started to pickup and the sky grew even darker.

 

Phasmatos sanguinatum planicium. Sanguinatum planicium.  
Symbole du masque et de l'ombre, embrase-toi.   
Embrase-toi. Sanguinatum planicium.

 

He repeated the incantation over and over again. The wind became impossibly strong and the waves from the ocean could be heard crashing onto the beach. Sand was blown everywhere, and everyone but Stiles stepped back and covered their faces. He chanted louder and louder until his eyes grew dark and blood ran down from his nose. With his arms outstretched he allowed the spell to grow in power until he’d gained the energy he needed to heal his fallen friend. After a few moments, he placed his hands over Allison’s wounds, which began emitting a soft, orange glow. Stiles was still chanting, and his mind was almost completely out of his control. His body had taken over now, like a sinister auto-pilot commanding his every move.

Then suddenly, the wind stopped. The silence became deafening, and Stiles fell back to rest on his elbows.

Jackson placed his hands on Stiles’ arm and shoulder, helping him to his feet, while Lydia rushed over toward Allison. The gashes were gone, but the brunette’s eyes remained closed.

“She’s alive,” Jackson confirmed, his werewolf hearing detecting a heartbeat.

Stiles didn’t miss a beat. He grabbed the jar and stammered back toward Scott. He was absolutely exhausted, but he couldn’t stop now. Scott wouldn’t stop if it was him lying on the ground.

“Stiles what are doing?” Lydia asked.

“It’s Scott, Lyds.” He slurred out. “I ‘ave to try.”

“Stiles you're too weak!” Supplied Isaac, as Stiles began to pour the second half of the concoction around Scott’s body.

“Lahey’s right, Stiles,” added Jackson. “This will kill you.”

Once the circle was completed, Stiles stopped for a minute, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees. They were right. This _would_ kill him.

“Why isn’t he healing?” Asked Danny. Erica explained that minor injuries from an alpha were hard to heal on their own, much less a gash to the jugular.

“I can do this,” Stiles said. He wore a determined expression and his confidence was admittedly impressive. Delusional, but impressive.

Lydia begged him not to, but he kneeled down next to Scott the same way he’d done for Allison.

 

Phasmatos sanguinatum planicium. Sanguinatum planicium.  
Symbole du masque et de l'ombre, embrase-toi.   
Embrase-toi. Sanguinatum planicium.

 

The wind began to pick up like before, and with it came the crashing waves and spraying sand. Stiles was determined. He wasn’t going to let Scott die. Not like this.

_Where the fuck is Derek._

He repeated the incantation over and over again, but it wasn’t working like it had before. His mind was pleading, begging with nature for more power, but they wouldn’t answer.

A year ago – Hell, a _week_ ago – he would have been ready to give up. He would have been ready to call it quits. Cut his losses. Never look back. But something was changing in him. He could feel it building in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t know what to call it exactly, but it drove him. It drove him to turn to Lydia where she was crouched next to him, and he asked her to scream. She didn’t need to ask what he meant. In that moment – in the chaos of wind, and noise, and power swirling and crashing all around them, she somehow knew. She put her hand on his shoulder and screamed louder than she ever had before.

With sound waves came power, and Stiles channeled every last bit of power he could until Scott wound’s were glowing the way Allison’s had. Blood was dripping from Stiles’ mouth now, and he couldn’t open his eyes even if he wanted to. His heart felt like it would both beat out of his chest, and stop at any second. His entire body was vibrating with a power he’d never felt before. A power he knew he shouldn’t be feeling. Once he was sure that Scott wounds were well enough to heal on their own, he let go of everything. He gave in. He gave up.

His consciousness drifted quickly out of reach, and he was enveloped by darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger to the rescue!!! I wanted to get the chance to write a bit of magic unfolding in a way that I feel is realistic, yet not too far off from canon. I've been rewatching The Vampire Diaries (and totally stole some spell ideas from them), and the way magic is represented in the show is similar to teen wolf. But, as we all know, Teen Wolf never delves more than a couple feet under the surface of magic. Thus, this chapter is born! I hope you guys like the direction I'm taking this, and if not. Well, honestly, I don't care, because I do! As always, thank you all for reading and please leave me lots of kudos and comments because they fuel my desire to torture the characters! =]
> 
> But don't worry, I'm a sucker for a happy ending.


	12. Famous Last Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has a conversation with an unexpected visitor. The pack regroups after Deucalion's attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling so inspired today, I wrote the next chapter. I know, two days in a row! I'll accept all appreciatory payments via cash or personal check ;)
> 
> Enjoy!

When Stiles shut the door, Derek fell apart. Everything rushed to the surface all at once. Everything he felt for Stiles. Disappointment. Love. Hate. Fear. Worry. Concern. The utter need to scoop him up and hold him tight and never let him go.

Derek hadn’t cried in ages. His uncle peter told him once when he was 8 that men don’t cry. Especially werewolf men. And especially _especially_ werewolf men who were gonna be alphas one day. Looking back, Derek wasn’t sure why he took that to heart. Peter was only 11 at the time. But it stuck with him.

He cried only twice after that conversation. The first was when he killed Paige. He wanted so badly to save her, but he couldn’t. He let her trust him in the most devastating of ways, and he let her down.

The second time was at the funeral for the victims of the fire. He’d held it together until the moment when they lowered his mother’s empty coffin into the ground.

This was the third time. The third time in almost a decade that tears stung at Derek Hale’s eyes. The third time that his throat was swelling impossibly big for his neck to hold, and all he could do was cry. All he could do was ball up his fists, and lean in on himself and try his best to not make a sound. His whole pack was downstairs, and alpha werewolves didn’t cry. All of this pain, all of these feelings were swirling together but not mixing. He was a vichyssoise of emotions and Stiles was the chef; adding and stirring them just as they started to settle.

He had to get out of here. He’d never felt like this before.

He stood up, glanced at his pathetic self in the mirror and jumped through his open window effortlessly.

He took off, using his werewolf speed to avoid detection from any prying eyes in the surrounding houses. The Hales had been coming up here since before Derek was born, and he knew the area well. He took off down the driveway, into the street, and headed toward town. Anywhere that wasn’t here. Anywhere that wasn’t near Stiles. After walking for a few hours, he found himself in a park, just outside the small town’s main shopping center. Before he knew it he was sitting on a bench, watching a few groups of children play. It probably seemed creepy, but the other parents didn’t know him, maybe he had a kid here that he was watching?

A kid. Was something he wanted? A kid with Stiles? How was he even thinking about this? They jacked off once in the shower and he’s picturing a kid with the guy. _Get a grip, Derek._

But he couldn’t. He wondered how it would feel to see Stiles chasing a toddler around the playground equipment. One with black hair, but soft honey eyes. They’d have to adopt, obviously but fuck. Where was this coming from? He was 25 years old. That’s how old his parents were when they had Laura. _Stiles is in high school you idiot._

He could practically hear his big sister now. God what he wouldn’t do to talk to her again.

“You’ve really done it this time, little brother.”

He snapped his attention to his right, and before his very eyes sat Laura. She was sitting with her legs crossed, arm stretched out along the back of the bench. She held a cup of coffee, and looked casually out at the playground.

“Y-you're not here.” Derek said cautiously.

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not,” she said playfully. She smiled cheekily at Derek and he rubbed his hands at his eyes; anything to clear himself of this sick hallucination.

When he blinked them open again she was gone.

Only she wasn’t, and she’d only switched to the spot on the other side of him.

“Yes, Derek, I’m not really here,” she said. “I mean, I am… I’m still me. But I’m not alive, not physically. I haven’t been since our deranged uncle went all Hannibal Lector on me.”

She took another drink from her coffee.

“I miss you,” Derek said simply. He didn’t dare reach over and touch her.

“I miss you too, little brother. But I haven’t gone anywhere. I’m still here. I’m still with you, anytime you need me to be.”

“Laura everything is a mess,” he started. The tears started to come again, and he could do nothing to stop him.

She put her arm around him and it was almost like she was there. He couldn’t feel the physical touch; it was more like a memory. A floating line in his eye that drifted further away the more he tried to look at it.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be what everyone needs me to be. I can’t be an alpha, I can’t be a big brother to Isaac, and I can’t be anything to Stiles. I’ll ruin it. I ruin everything.”

“Shhh. Sh. Shh,” she cooed calmly. “Derek Hale you do not ruin everything. You have a heart that is bigger than you know what to do with, and you have a history of showing it to the wrong people. So you do the only thing you can do: you guard it.”

Derek didn’t say anything, he just looked at her. He’d almost forgotten what she looked like. He knew he’d never forget again.

“Why does this feel so shitty,” he said flatly.

Laura only laughed. A genuinely wholehearted laugh, with a smile that could grow the Grinch’s heart three sizes in one day. “It feels shitty because its love, Derek. And you had to go and step in it, and track it all through the house.”

Derek might have almost kind of smiled at that. Just barely, though.

“It’s more than that, Laura. He’s my mate,” the alpha said.

“I know he is, Der. I check up on you from time to time when the opportunity allows it. You’ve really had a trying couple of years, huh? A now you’re mated to a high schooler…”

“Who is super adorable, by the way,” she added playfully. “And the craziest thing is, he might even be more stubborn than you.”

He smiled a dopey smile. She was right, Stiles was stubborn as hell. He didn’t let anyone tell him what to do, and it was his way or the highway. And Derek loved that about him. He loved that he couldn’t tell Stiles what to do. He loved that Stiles called him on his bullshit when no one else did. She loved how he looked and how he smelled and how funny he was, even if Derek didn’t always understand his pop culture references.

“Listen, Derek. We probably don’t have much time.” Laura said more seriously. She sat up and faced toward her brother, taking his hand in her own.

“Time? What do you mean time? This is all in my head.” Derek questioned.

She smiled at him again, more fondly this time. Like she was really glad to see him. “Things are going to work out with Stiles, okay. You know he likes you, you can smell it on him. Don’t overthink. You’re an alpha because you have alpha instincts, not the other way around. Be who you are, and Stiles will like you. Just like you like the person he is.”

Derek thought about it for a moment. He supposed she was right; as much as he hated to admit it, she always was.

“Remember this, little brother: I love you. And I’m always with you.”

 

With that, she was gone. He stood up and looked around, blinking away the last few tears that remained. It was cloudier than he realized. A storm front must have blown in while he talked with Laura. He couldn’t believe what he was thinking. _Talked with Laura. You didn’t talk with Laura, she’s dead._ He would have chalked it up to a dream if it hadn’t felt so real.

 

“Derek?” He heard an exasperated voice from behind him. It was Cora. She looked like she’d been running full speed for 20 minutes. Her face was a splayed mixture of panic and fear.

“Cora? Are you okay?” He stepped forward and grabbed her arms and sort of moved them around, like he was examining her for wounds. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay. I ran,” she said. He nodded with understanding. With _approval_. He was glad that whatever was happening that she was safe. He couldn’t lose her again. “We’ve got trouble,” she stammered out, still catching her breath. “It’s them. They’re back.”

He didn’t need to ask. He knew exactly who she was talking about. No one else in the world could have Cora so frightened. No one else would have sent Cora running.

“They’ve grown, their scent has changed. It’s –“

“-the pack from the other night,” he finished for her. “The one Stiles was with…”

Cora was so out of breath she could only nod. She was doubled over, her hands resting firmly on her knees.

“Is everyone okay? Did they attack you? Where’s Stiles? Is he…”

He couldn’t bring himself to ask that last question.

“I don’t know, I just ran. I had to find you,” Cora explained. A few people had started gathering around them where they stood next to the park bench. Their intense discussion probably seemed violent to unknowing ears.

“Is everything okay?” A bystander asked them. She was a well-meaning blonde in her early thirties. Probably just looking to help. The small child she was holding was playing with her car keys, and it gave Derek an idea.

Derek looked from the woman, over to Cora, and then back to the woman.

“Actually it’s not,” he said simply. “We’re gonna need your keys.”

 

 

Derek all but crashed into the driveway back at the beach house and flung open the door to the white SUV. Suburban soccer mom was s _o_ not his style, but it got the job done. He clambered out of the vehicle and the smell was repugnant. Blood. Lots of blood. It made his stomach drop. _It’s not stiles blood. It’s not his blood. It can’t be his blood. He’s okay._

There was another smell Derek didn’t recognize but it smelled burnt, and it made him scrunch up his nose.

“Around back,” Cora said. She took off toward the back of the house and Derek followed suit.

The only two members of his pack outside were Danny and Lydia. They sat on the ground about 30 feet from the back porch, Lydia resting against Danny, who stroked her hair softly. Derek wasn’t an EMT but he knew shock when he saw it. Lydia’s gaze was drawn toward the house. She wasn’t blinking. She wasn’t moving. Derek would barely qualify her shallow breaths as breathing. The long gash along her arm was bandaged with a discarded beach towel.

“She’s been like this for a half hour,” Danny said to the Hale siblings as they approached.

“What happened?” Derek demanded.

“Scott and Allison almost died. The other pack, they…” he trailed off.

Derek glanced around the back of the property, the earth was scorched, and there was blood everywhere. _What is all this?_

“Derek, they’re inside,” Cora said.

Before he knew it he was in there. Scott was laid out on the couch in the family room, and Allison was on the love seat. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd sat with them. Derek could hear their heartbeats so he knew they weren’t dead.

“Where’s Stiles?” He asked flatly.

Boyd pointed toward the staircase. “Upstairs. Jackson’s with him.”

Derek was upstairs in a second, but it felt like a journey.

His feet carried him exactly where he needed to go. The bedroom door was open, so as soon as he reached his room, he saw them. His whole body clenched at the sight. Jackson sat on the edge of the bed, next to Stiles, who was laid on his back, eyes closed. The blonde werewolf stood up when he saw Derek looming in the doorway. Neither of them said anything for a minute, Jackson’s eyes were locked on Derek and his were locked onto Stiles. His nose and mouth were smeared with dried blood, and his mop of hair had dirt and sand throughout. He looked paler than usual. If Derek was being honest with himself, the kid looked dead. But Derek couldn’t entertain that thought.

“He has a heartbeat,” Jackson finally said. “It’s faint, but…”

“Who did this to him?” Derek asked.

Jackson explained what happened. He told the alpha about how Stiles had saved Scott and Allison using Lydia’s blood, after Deucalion and his crew showed up. Derek honestly couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“What the Hell was he thinking?” Derek said to no one in particular.

“I don’t know, man,” Jackson said. “But I’m glad he was thinking it.”

He patted a reassurance against Derek’s shoulder as he made to exit the room, shutting the door behind him. Derek was hesitant to touch the boy, but he couldn’t help himself. He sat down on the edge of the bed and took Stiles’ hand into his own. The simple act of touching Stiles – of being near him – did wonders to quell the hollow ache that had carved its way into Derek’s stomach.

He reached out to run a hand through Stiles’ hair.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” he said to the unconscious teenager. “I know you can’t hear me, but I am, Stiles. I’m so fucking sorry. I know you’re angry with me, but this? This was reckless and you know it.”

Derek grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom and wet it in the sink. He sat back down and wiped the blood from Stiles’ face.

“You nearly killed yourself, Stiles. God, how could you do that? I know, stupid question, right? I know exactly how you could do that. You always put your friends first, even after they treat you like shit. I love that about you.”

He took Stiles’ hand again and kissed it gently. “I’m sorry I went through your things without asking. I have this bad habit of not trusting people, even when I know they’re not a threat. And… I promise you I’ll try to do better. You deserve better. Just wake up. Please, Stiles. Just wake up, and you can hate me all you want. You can annoy me, and talk for hours at a time, and you can eat all the Swedish fish you want, just…”

Derek closed his eyes, and took a couple deep breaths. He didn't have it in him to cry again.

 

 

“Jesus, Sourwolf,” Stiles said weakly. “Who knew you were such a sap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was kind of a filler chapter, but I hated the idea of leaving off on a low note. And I gave you Laura feels, which I've been dying to do. Not sure when the next chapter will be up, but it shouldn't be more than a week or two.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	13. The Miseducation of Derek Hale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack deals with the aftermath of Deucalion's attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one.

Muffled voices tapered at the edge of his consciousness. Well, maybe just once voice. He couldn’t really tell. He was sort of stuck in this weird place between dream and imagination. And his head _really_ hurt. His whole body hurt. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on. He felt a pressure next to him, and through squinted eyes he saw Derek walking into the bathroom. He was still talking; Stiles knew the depth of his voice but couldn’t quite make out the words. And his eyelids were just so heavy. A warm cloth wiped at his face, and he could feel now that it was dirty. Dried over, stuck with something that he guessed was blood. Derek was talking again. And maybe holding his hand? Stiles could barely feel it, but thought it was happening.

“…you always put your friends first, even after they treat you like shit. I love that about you.”

Yeah, he was definitely holding his hand.

“I’m sorry I went through your things without asking.”

_As you should be, you asshole._

_“_ I have this bad habit of not trusting people, even when I know they’re not a threat. And… I promise you I’ll try to do better.”

 _Well fuck._ Now he might have felt bad.

“You deserve better. Just wake up. Please, Stiles.”

_Oh I am so milking this._

“Just wake up, and you can hate me all you want. You can annoy me, and talk for hours at a time, and you can eat all the Swedish fish you want, just…”

Stiles had very mixed feelings about all of this. On one hand, he felt that Derek deserved to be feeling like this. On another, he felt bad for the guy. Was Stiles being too critical? The man did lose his whole family because he trusted the wrong person. Either way, he couldn’t handle his brooding, wolfy boyfriend being this emotional for a second longer.

“Jesus, Sourwolf,” he finally spoke up. “Who knew you were such a sap.”

The words wheezed their way out of his lungs and were followed by another sputtering of sounds and coughs.

The 200 pound man-dog that pounced on him wasn’t really helping, either.

“Okay, okay. Jesus Derek,” he said as serious as he could. He thought it might have almost sounded stern. Stiles hated that he couldn’t stay mad at Derek - even when he was being a major dick.

“Seriously, Der. I’m fine. You can get off me now. Please. I’d like to - breathe,” he said. But Derek only hugged him harder. When he finally let up, Derek sat back on his knees at the foot of the bed. He looked sheepish, his head tilted down, and his eyes soft and doughy. He looked almost vulnerable; his metaphorical tail between his legs. Stiles had the urge to console him. He wanted to scoop him up, tell him it was fine, that he wasn’t mad anymore. But he also wanted to experience this side of Derek just a little longer. He didn’t care if it made him selfish.

“Stiles. I’m so sorry. I should have been there. The pack needed me. _You_ needed me. And I was storming off like a stupid kid.”

Stiles waiting a long blip before he said anything. “And…?”

Derek furrowed his brow and glanced around, nervously fidgeting with his hands. Stiles thought it was adorable.

“Uhm. And… I shouldn’t have gone through your things. And I shouldn’t have lost control when you came home smelling like another pack?” He looked up to Stiles for confirmation, silently asking if that was the answer he was looking for.

Stiles expression didn’t waver. “And…?” he asked again.

Before Derek could get too panicked, a voice yelled up from down stairs.

“For God sakes, Derek, he’s just kidding!”

Damn Jackson for ruining his fun.

Stiles promptly sat up and kissed his boyfriend. It wasn’t rushed, but it wasn’t the kind of kiss that would lead to something hot and heavy. There was meaning behind it. It wasn’t desperate or sensual, it conveyed a message. A message that Stiles couldn’t quite convey with words.

Once Stiles broke free he started to speak. “Derek-“

Before got far, Derek’s finger was pressed against his lips, and their foreheads were leaning against each other for support.

 

They stayed like that for a moment. A whole minute where they were the only two in the world. It didn’t matter that Stiles felt dirty and gross, and probably stunk. It didn’t matter that Derek was still sweaty and probably didn’t smell that great either.

“Shit!” Stiles said. “Scott and Allison! Are they… Did they?” He couldn’t say the words, even if they were a very real possibility.

Derek cocked his head to the side and shut his eyes, listening for the pack downstairs. “They’re fine,” he said. “They’re awake. You saved them.”

Stiles let out a huff of air and sunk back a little, the tension in his shoulders dissipated.

Derek squeezed a reassuring hand around Stiles’ shoulder. “I know you’re probably exhausted, but we need to talk,” Derek said. “The whole pack, I mean. I need to explain some things.”

Stiles nodded silently. Derek pushed his hair back gently, and Stiles felt the grains of dirt and sand move around.

“You should get cleaned up first,” he said, swiftly planting a kiss on his cheek. Stiles didn’t know if he’d ever get used to how good the stubble felt. Derek stood up and walked to the door. “Meet us downstairs in 20?”

Stiles nodded again. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

 

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Stiles felt a hundred times better. The clothes that Derek laid out for him were actually Derek’s, and they smelled amazing. Who knew a pair of sweatpants and an old Nirvana T-shirt could put Stiles on cloud nine?

He came downstairs, and everyone was gathered in the family room. The pack took up a sofa, two love seats, a recliner, and a few spots on the floor. If he were being honest, Stiles felt really awkward walking into that room. He hadn’t realized it would be like this. It was a strange mix of things: “Everyone knows me and Derek are together,” “Everyone probably knows these are his clothes,” and “Oh yeah, Scott’s alive but he may or may not hate me?”

By some miracle, Jackson moved from his spot next to Lydia and sat on the floor with Danny and Erica. The strawberry blonde patted the cushion on the love seat, and Stiles slipped in next to her as quietly and quickly as he could.

Derek and Cora were the only ones standing. Everyone else was gathered around them like the room was a small amphitheater and the Hale siblings were about to perform Shakespeare.

Much to his surprise, Lydia snuggled up next to him. She was looking much better than before, and he could tell she had also recently showered. Her damp hair smelled like apples, and he still thought she looked beautiful – even when she didn’t have makeup on. And even though she was wearing Jackson’s lacrosse sweats.

 

“Okay, Derek,” Scott said bitterly. “We’re all here. Tell us what the Hell is going on! Who were those guys??”

_Yeah. He’s still pissed._

Derek let out a deep breath, his eyes searching for the right words. “The man who attacked you, his name is Deucalion.”

Stiles appreciated the alpha’s move to ease into the conversation, but they already knew that.

“We already knew that!” Scott said.

“Shut up and let him talk!” Cora said quickly. “You all are the most disrespectful pack I’ve ever – “

Derek shared a longing look with his sister and she went quiet. He continued.

“Deucalion is an alpha. But the pack he runs is not like any other pack you’ve ever seen or heard of. Deucalion is the alpha of the alpha pack.”

The teens looked around at each other, uncertainty painted on each of their faces. After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Erica raised her hand.

“Uhm. Erica?” Derek called on her questioningly, as if he were a teacher.

The blonde smiled. “Yes. We don’t know what that means, and we’re gonna need you to elaborate. Like a lot.”

The pack seemed to agree with this and Stiles was glad to be a mere spectator in all of this. His brain was hurting from all the thinking he’d already done today. His urge to jump into the conversation was quelled by Lydia. They way she held onto him was grounding in a way he didn’t experience a lot, and he was grateful for it.

“When we were kids, the alpha pack was just a stupid thing that adults used to say to us to scare us. Peter and Laura would make jokes like “If you don’t do the dishes, the alpha pack will come and eat you!”

“Even our parents would make fun,” Cora added.

“When we got a little older, we started attending the adult pack meetings,” Derek said. “It was fun, in a way. We got to be considered grown-ups. And we were included in pack decisions.”

“Then there was one meeting that mom told us we couldn’t go to,” Cora said.

“So naturally, we snuck in and eavesdropped,” Derek continued with a fond smile. “But I’d never seen my parent’s like that before. They were angry. _That_ wasn’t entirely new. What _was_ new was that they were scared.”

“You have to understand that the Hale pack was the gold standard for wolves,” Cora said. “I’m not saying that to be snobby or anything, it’s the truth. Other packs looked up to us. They came to us for advice, we helped them with training. We’re one of the oldest packs in the country. So to see my mom that scared…”

“…we knew something was up,” Derek finished. “They talked about a pack made up entirely of alphas. The leader’s name was Deucalion. He helped members of other packs kill their way to alpha status, and once it was done, they joined him.”

Allison scrunched up her face in shock and disbelief. They all shared similar looks, but allowed their leader to continue.

“Word had gotten around that he’d made his way to California, and within a month or two they had settled down somewhere in Beacon Hills county,” Derek explained.

Cora nodded and took the reigns. “He came to our house once. Our parents refused to have anything to do with his pack. In fact, they told him that if he ever stepped foot onto our property again, they’d take it as a challenge.”

“Okay… Then what happened?” Scott asked. Neither Cora nor Derek answered right away, but she looked up to her brother, silently allowing him to tell his story.

“I’d only ever had feelings one person before Kate,” Derek said. He was quieter than before. Stiles could tell there was a distinct shift in his energy, he just wasn’t sure why.

“Her name was Paige.”

Stiles would never tell a soul how much that sentence hurt him. He didn’t even know why. He couldn’t understand it. But it struck a cord in him that he didn’t know he had.

“We went to school together. She played the violin, and she was absolutely brilliant. It didn’t take her long to find out that I was a werewolf,” he chuckled lightly. “It actually took me longer to find out that she knew. Another thing I didn’t know was that Deucalion’s pack had been watching me.”

“They’d been watching all of us,” Cora corrected. She clasped a comforting hand on Derek’s arm.

“They wanted to send a message to Talia Hale. They figured the best way to do that was through her children.”

Stiles wasn’t sure where the story was going, but he knew it wasn’t anywhere good.

“Paige wanted to be a werewolf. We wanted to be together, and – and she asked me to turn her. But I couldn’t do it. I mean, an alpha had to do it. I knew that if I asked my mom, she wouldn’t do it.”

He paused, and took a second to recompose himself.

“Peter convinced me the only way for Paige to become a wolf was to ask an alpha to do it. Peter knew a guy that would do it no problem. His name was Ennis. We didn’t know he was part of Deucalion’s pack. Deucalion didn’t know Ennis had agreed to this.”

He stopped for another minute, but his story was far from over.

“We were both at the school late one night. She was practicing for a recital. The team had championships coming up and coach had us on 2-a-days for three weeks straight.”

Derek tensed up, and the hurt in his eyes was deafening. Cora continued for him.

“Ennis attacked and bit her,” she said simply. “But the bite didn’t take. She died.”

The whole room paused. You could have heard a pin drop from three streets over.

“No one could have known she was his daughter,” Derek choked out. “His pack didn’t even know. He’d traveled all the way across the country looking for her.”

“Derek-“ Scott started to interrupt but Derek ignored him.

“Deucalion killed Ennis outside of our house. Our parent’s sent us to the basement when the fighting started.” He scrubbed a hand over his face.

God – there were kids with him. He’d got his hands on a set of twins, and convinced them to kill everyone in their pack. If Deaton and Morel hadn’t been there to help, they probably would have killed us all.”

“They almost did,” Cora said weakly, absently running her fingers along a portion of her flank.

“They used some sort of banishing spell to keep them away,” Added Derek.

“Until today, we hadn’t heard a thing about them,” Cora said.

Lydia cleared her throat and sat up, wriggling herself from where her and Stiles were intertwined on the couch. “So. You’re telling me that a pack of psychotic alpha werewolves is coming after us because of some 13-year-old revenge mission? That _you_ started?” She pointed at Derek. She was laughing, almost histerically.

“Lyds…” Stiles started.

“Let her speak, Stiles,” Derek cut him off.

She looked between the two of them and continued. “Look. I know that all of you have some sort of blind loyalty to each other and I get that. I really do. But I _just_ made it through one of the hardest years of my life. I almost died at least three times. Peter used me to resurrect himself from the dead and NO ONE EVEN KNOWS WHERE HE IS. Now I’m some harbinger of death like goddamn Madam Trelawny and I. Can’t. Do this anymore.”

Her laughter soon turned tearful and Jackson was next to her in a second, embracing her in a tight hug, trying desperately to calm her down. Erica wouldn’t look at her. Stiles didn’t know what to think and his mouth was stuck slightly agape.

It was this day. It was this whole day and it was tearing them apart.

He hated it. Before he even realized, his feet had carried him halfway up the stairs. He’d made some weak excuse about needing some air. A few other members of the pack were already standing up, preparing to go their own ways. They needed some time, he suspected. They needed to process all of this.

 

He had everything out in only a few minutes. He’d broken off a decent sized nugget and was breaking it up with his hands in the bathroom. He split the cigarillo like he’d done dozens of times before and emptied its contents into the toilet. He wasn’t one for tobacco, and while some people preferred to mix their weed into the swisher, Stiles Stilinski was a purist.

He was in a hurry, so he used a crutch; the small piece of rolled notebook paper made it much easier to roll and seal the blunt. He never cared too much for the taste as he licked and molded the brown wrap until it was perfectly coiled. He also never cared too much for blueberry, but he worked with what he had.

After drying it out with a lighter, he opened the bathroom door and almost jumped out of his skin. There stood Scott, who also looked pretty jumpy.

“Jesus Scotty, how many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me!” he gasped.

Scott’s eyes had identified the blunt in his hand, and before he could say anything, Stiles silently invited him to follow him out to the porch.

Stiles sat where he had the other day, his legs dangling through the railing as Scott moved to join him. Stiles offered the lighter and weed to Scott, who looked unsure.

“Are you sure man? Your weed, you start, right?”

Stiles considered this for a moment, before saying “Consider it a peace offering?”

Scott sighed. He took the lighter and flicked it a few times before the tip had caught fire. He took a deep inhale and blew the smoke purposefully through his mouth.

“Stiles, I don’t need a peace offering,” he said, passing it back to his friend.

“You could have fooled me,” Stiles said, taking a few puffs.

It was weird. They fell back into their familiar patterns of puff, puff, pass, but nothing about this conversation was even remotely familiar. It was strained, and they didn’t do strained.

“Stiles… I’m sorry.”

“You know. I’ve had it up to here with the amount of sorrys I’ve heard in the last few days.”

Scott didn’t say anything right away. They just sat there another moment. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He finally asked. Stiles could tell he was trying really hard to hide the hurt from his voice.

Stiles huffed out a breath and raked a hand back through his hair. “Scott it’s not that simple. It’s not something I even realized until we first got here. And I don’t know what it is!” His arms flailed for emphasis and he almost lost his balance. If asked, he was certainly going to blame the weed. “It’s just. I have this _thing_ with Derek… And yeah. Looking at it objectively it looks crazy. It even _sounds_ crazy. But it’s real. And. I can’t explain it. I don’t know, I know I sound dumb but. Fuck, dude, I think I love him.”

“Holy shit,” Scott said after a long inhale. “Stiles, I didn’t know it was like that. I thought maybe you were just fucking around, or that he was taking advantage of you or…”

Stiles laughed at that. Genuinely, whole-heartedly laughed. It was probably the fact that he was high, but now Scott was laughing too. After a while the laughter subsided and the two were lying on their backs on the porch, shoulders touching. This was them. _This_ felt normal.

“I just… I felt stupid.” Scott said after a while.

It had been a regular thing for Scott. They’d been talking about it since they were in the third grade. How Scott didn’t make the same grades as Stiles. How he didn’t know a lot of big words, and how he’d rather play outside than do his homework. It wasn’t until they were a bit older that Stiles realized it was probably because Scott didn’t like being home. That no matter how long his dad yelled at him, or how many things he was grounded from, Scott just wanted to get out. It wasn’t until his dad finally left that Scott started feeling comfortable in his own space.

Stiles knew how big this was for Scott. Hell, he was probably the only one that knew. He doubted that Scott had shared his biggest insecurity with Allison, even if he did love her.

“Scott stop it right now,” Stiles said. “You are not stupid. This wasn’t about you, man. You need to believe that. And since I can’t do a good enough job of convincing you, then you just have to trust me.”

Scott turned his head so his cheek was flush against the wooden deck. “I do trust you,” he said, looking at his friend.

“Scott I wanted to tell you as soon as it started happening, but we weren’t – I mean I thought you didn’t want to be my friend anymore.” If he choked on the words momentarily, he didn’t notice, and it definitely wasn’t because he wanted to cry.

“I’m sorry that you thought that." Scott was crying now." I’m sorry that I even made you want to think that. And I’m sorry that I didn’t notice it was happening, because it was! It was happening! You were being phased out of our group and I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t stop it. And I know you’re probably completely saturated with your daily dose of sorrys but if that’s the case, then a few more wont matter, right?”

Stiles was glad it was dark outside because the thought of Jackson seeing he and Scott crying on the floor of the porch was something he did not want to entertain. He hugged Scott harder than Derek had done earlier, but in a much similar fashion. It was admittedly hard to hug someone while they were lying down.

“Saturated, huh?” Stiles said after a while.

“I’ve been studying for the SAT,” Scott said sheepishly. They both laughed at that; they’d fallen back into their usual groove without even noticing.

“Thank you,” Scott said. “For saving me when you didn’t have to. For saving Allison. For risking your life when you didn’t have to.”

Stiles sat up, and his face changed a little. It grew stern, but remained gentle. “Didn’t have to?” He asked rhetorically. “Scotty, of course I had to. I _wanted_ to. Fuck - I _needed_ to. Just because I stopped being your friend didn’t mean you ever stopped being mine. I need you. And maybe I need you more than you need me, but I-“

“-No,” Scott said. “I need you too.”

They didn’t say anything else after that; they didn’t need to. It was a mutual understanding that formed long before Spring break. Before high school, even. Before Stiles mom got sick, before Scott’s dad left. Before Scott’s first asthma attack or Stiles first panic attack. Before werewolves and kanimas, witches and monsters. They needed each other, and there wasn’t a damn thing in the world that could ever change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally on winter break! No more school, no more internship - at least not until January, anyway.  
> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter. I've been getting pretty sappy myself, lately. But don't worry, it won't stick around forever. =]  
> Thank you for continuing to read this fic. Really, you have no idea what it means to me. And as always, let me know what you guys thought of the chapter!


	14. The Miseducation of Derek Hale Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More is revealed about Derek's past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sit back and buckle up kiddos, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

He hadn’t planned on the conversation ending right then and there, but he supposed it was better than nothing. Danny stood up and Boyd and Isaac followed him toward the kitchen. Lydia and Jackson headed toward his bedroom. Stiles got up and started to walk out.

“Stiles, hey, where are you going?” Derek tried to ask, but he kept walking.

“Need some air,” he mumbled over his shoulder as he walked up to the stairs.

He moved to follow him, but Cora stopped him with a hand over his shoulder. He accepted defeat and, sunk down next to her on the floor, and leaned his head back against the wall.

“That went well,” she quipped.

“Yeah…”

“Fuck,” she huffed out. “What are we gonna do? He found us, Derek. How? How did he get out? What the fuck are we gonna do.”

He wrapped his arm around her instinctually. Whether they were alpha instincts or older brother instincts, he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter, anyway. Cora would always be his sister before his beta.

“I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you, okay?” he said softly. “They’re not going to hurt you again.”

 

 

After a while, Derek and Cora had moved their way into the kitchen. Allison informed them that Scott was upstairs talking with Stiles, and she put on a pot of coffee for them. The three of them sat and chatted for a while. Derek realized that he didn’t know much about the girl except that Stiles assured him she was harmless. He had some difficulty getting past the whole “Argent” thing, but he found her to be intelligent, charming, and unfavorably kind. He could see how she and Scott did well together.

After an hour or so, Scott and Stiles came giggling down the stairs and joined the others at the table. Derek sensed a change in their dynamic but Cora voiced it. “So are you two butt buddies again, or what?”

Okay, so maybe not the exact words that Derek would have used. At all. Like, ever.

He gave his sister a look that could have turned her to stone, but she brushed it off with a pointed smile.

“We’re cool,” Scott said simply. He threw a hand around Stiles shoulder and Derek felt that it belonged there. He liked seeing Stiles happy. He was always making jokes, but he was never the one smiling. It was a good look on him.

“Good,” Cora said curtly. “Now, are you going to tell them the rest of the story, or am I?”

Derek stiffened at that. The girl was impossible. She had no tact. None. Like, at all.

“The rest of the story?” Allison asked.

“Yeah, what gives man?” Stiles asked. “What, are you holdin’ out on us. I gotta say sourwolf, not a good boyfriend move,” he winked.

Derek let out a long breath. “Fine,” he said. “But no interruptions until I’m finished.”

“Yes sir!” Scott said.

 

Derek cleared his throat and started his story. “It was a Friday in December…”

 

“Heheh,” Scott giggled.

“What??” Stiles said back.

“Derek is your boyfriend.”

“Stiles busted out laughing too, and now they were laughing so hard they were nearly crying, which had Derek growling.

Allison gave the boys a stern look and poured them each a cup of coffee, hoping to sober them up enough to listen to Derek.

“Anyway,” he said through gritted teeth.

 

“It was a Friday in December.”

 

 

***

 

“Cora, give it back!” He screamed at the girl, as he chased after her. Her brunette pigtails bounced as she rounded the corner, giggling every step of the way.

“Cora, give Derek back his comic book,” a voice sang out from the kitchen.

The boy froze in place, and his face turned frustrated, riddled with offense. “Mom! It’s not a comic book, it’s a-“

“-a graphic novel Derek, I know, my mistake,” the tall woman said apologetically. Whatever she was cooking smelled amazing, and if Derek wasn’t so mad at his stupid sister then he probably could have enjoyed it more.

“Cora, give your brother back his _graphic novel_ ,” she emphasized.

The small girl handed back her brother’s book and he snatched it from her hands with a snarl of his fangs. Of course, she screamed, and then there was more even arguing.

The eldest of the Hale siblings could be heard stomping down the stairs with an exaggerated huff that only a teenager could muster. “What is going on down here?” Laura complained. “I have a test on Monday and a date in 3 hours that I’m nowhere _near_ ready for!”

Mrs. Hale added a pinch of parsley to the pot on the stove and stirred it gently. “Then it sounds like you could use a break?” She said sweetly. “Have a seat, the stew is ready – and Derek get your feet off the table! Honestly people, ‘raised by wolves’ is not the metaphor you will live by in my house!”

“Sorry mom,” Derek said sullenly. He looked around, and scrunched his nose, trying his best to get a scent. “Where’s peter?” He asked, sniffing in different directions.

“Right behind you, nephew,” a cool voice said from directly behind Derek. He definitely didn’t yelp.

“You must get better at scenting, young man,” Peter said jokingly. “I could have snapped your neck.”

The sound of the front door closing distracted Derek from Peter’s ruse and a tall man with jet black hair appeared in the kitchen doorway.

“Oh, Lucas, thank goodness you are home, your children are going to give me a coronary,” Talia said to her husband. She planted a surprising kiss on his lips and the handsome man hummed in approval.

“Well then,” he said smiling, “It’s a good thing you married a heart surgeon.”

The kiss evoked a collective grown from the children in the room and Laura brushed past her parents to get a glass of water.

“Seriously? As if the parental PDAs aren’t enough, you come in with more dad jokes? Do you guys practice these?”

“What’s that dear?” Talia asked with a smile. “Do we practice the dad jokes or the PDAs?”

“Well, honey, we’ve practiced the PDAs at least…” He pointedly counted each of his children in the room. “…Yep. Three. We’ve practiced them at least three times,” Mr. Hale said with an evil grin.

The front door opened and closed again as Laura made a vomiting noise. “Oh my god,” she said dramatically, “Deaton, Marin, get out while you still can. My parents are sociopaths.”

The pair smiled and exchanged hugs with Mr. and Mrs. Hale. “I’m not sure I even want to know what I’ve just walked into,” Dr. Deaton said. He and his sister shrugged off their coats and scarves, and hung them on the rack in the hallway.

The group made their way around the room with various introductions, like they’d done so many times before. Friday night dinner’s had been a tradition with the Hale pack for longer than Derek could remember.

“Sort of a small group tonight, where are the others?” Marin asked as they sat down around the table.

“Well,” Lucas said, clearing his throat. “My sister and her family took a trip to the grand canyon…”

“…and my nephew and his family tagged along,” Talia finished.

 

The energy in the room changed in a moment’s notice. Derek looked around the table when everyone grew silent. He looked between Laura and Peter, who were both clearly focused on a sound far away. A sound that Derek couldn’t hear. It was frustrating enough that he couldn’t smell his own uncle from a foot behind him, the fact that he had muggle hearing was just plain annoying.

“What’s going o-“ he started, before Peter clasped a hand over his mouth.

“Mom?” Laura said quietly, the concern evident on her face.

Talia stood and shared a look with the other adults in the room. When she got to Deaton she only nodded, a cryptic confirmation of an unasked question.

“Laura, take your brother and sister to the basement,” she said sternly.

“Is it…”

“Now, Laura!” Her father commanded.

Without hesitation, she threw Cora over her shoulder and grabbed Derek’s wrist and began walking quickly out of the kitchen.

“Ow! Laura. Jeez! Ease up.” Derek struggled as his sister all-but-dragged him from the room. He smacked and pinched at his sister’s grip, but it was unyielding.

They finally reached the basement. A thrashing Cora was set down on the steps as Laura locked the door from the inside.

“What is going on!” Derek demanded as they descended the steps to the basement.

“It’s the alphas,” Laura said. Derek thought she looked like a crazy person. She was picking up anything she could find and was blocking up the small windows that lined the top of the walls on either side. A box, a lawn chair, blankets, scraps of wood that Derek was saving to build a clubhouse. Cora stood quietly near the stairs, Derek knew she was about to start crying.

“Laura you’re scaring her!” He said to his older sister. There was more to the statement that he left off. _You’re scaring me._

Laura swiftly took a tie from her wrist and pulled her hair back out of her face. She knelt down in front of Derek, and spoke up to him. Her light brown eyes meeting his hazel ones.

“Derek. I need you to really listen to me. The alpha pack is here. That noise at dinner? It was the creaky gate at the edge of the property. This is life and death, okay?” She squeezed his shoulders to highlight her point and he nodded his understanding.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” she repeated, looking around the room for anything else that might help them. Her eyes landed on an old dresser that stood against a far wall. “Here, help me move this,” she said, pointing to the piece of furniture. He did as he was told, and the two scooted the rustic, wooden dresser up to the top of the stairs and jammed it against the door for good measure.

The three siblings reconvened at the base of the stairs and moved to sit against the wall. Laura sat in the middle, with a sibling on either side, her arms wrapped around their shoulders.

“They’re here,” she said quietly, focusing on the sounds from upstairs.

Derek tried his hardest to hear them, but he could only detect sounds at a rate slightly above the average human. He was consistently frustrated with himself when it came to werewolf stuff. He was a born wolf, for Christ’s sake. And he was a _Hale_ no less. Peter said he was just overthinking it, and that it would come to him eventually. Derek hopelessly disagreed.

Laura hasn’t said anything for a while. Derek looked up at her and saw silent tears spilling gracefully from the corners of her eyes. He knew whatever was going on was bad.

“They’re fighting,” Laura said almost inaudibly.

After that, Derek didn’t need werewolf hearing to discern the happenings of upstairs. Loud crashes and bangs split open every nerve in his body. People were being thrown against walls; the drywall doing nothing to brace for impact.

“Peter killed Ennis,” she said. “And a woman named Kali is as good as dead.” He wasn’t sure who these people were, but at least it was something. Derek both craved her updates and braced for them. They were the clown from a jack-in-the-box.

“Shit!” She said, standing abruptly to her feet. She wiped her tears and took a fighting stance. Before Derek could ask why, there was a pounding at the basement door. More slams and booms followed, until the wood began to splinter.

Derek took Cora to hide in the corner, crouched under some old sawhorses and a dusty sheet. He heard the intruder finally break through the threshold; the makeshift barricade dresser tumbled down the steps with vicious intensity.

“What the fuck?” Laura asked to the person that Derek couldn’t see. “Who are you? What do you want!” she demanded. She was fierce, Derek had almost forgotten.

Two different footsteps trickled down the wooden steps, and Derek couldn’t believe what came in to view. They were kids. Twins, actually. They looked only a year or two older than Cora. Derek guessed that they couldn’t have been more than 10.

“I’m Aidan,” the left twin said. “Ethan,” the other boy said with a small wave.

_What the Hell is going on?_

“Deucalion is sending children to do his bidding?” She said, although didn’t appear to expect an answer. Derek was puzzled by the was she spoke Deucalion’s name. It was almost like she knew him, or at least knew more than Derek.

She looked to the ceiling and screamed in the direction of the fighting. “You think I won’t hesitate to kick some prepubescent fuck-wads up and down the street?!”

The twins seemed to find her entertaining, or at least amusing. Their backs were turned to Derek, so he couldn’t yet see their faces.

“You’re… you’re alphas?” Laura said, failing to hide her initial surprise. Derek assumed their eyes were red.

“We’re more than that,” one of them said. He didn’t know if it was Aidan or Ethan and he didn’t really care. There were more important things to focus on – like the fact that the twins grabbed onto each other’s shoulder and were morphing into one person! He wasn’t actually sure it could be called a person, it was about 6 feet tall, and shaped sort of lumpy. There was no denying the muscle mass it had, though.

Laura looked on in ironic disbelief; she even let out a chuckle. It was the kind of thing you did when life had gotten so absurd you just had to laugh.

“Guess, I’m gonna have to reschedule my date,” she said. She shifted into her beta form, springing into action and coming at the thing hard and fast. She grunted and oomphed as she layered punch after punch to its face and jaw. The –man? –Person? –Guy? – Derek wasn’t really sure. Whatever it was, Laura was beating it backwards, until it fell on the ground. She snarled her fangs and pounced, moving to kick it in its ribs.

It grabbed her leg and pulled, causing her to fall flat on her back. She groaned as her body smacked against the cold, cement floor.

Cora gasped, and the twin turned instantly toward them. It’s face was even more hideous than Derek had anticipated. It’s eyebrows were frayed and thick, as were the sideburns that grew down its boney cheeks. It drooled and slobbered from an open mouth that held the largest fangs Derek had ever seen.

It locked on to the kid’s position and trudged over toward the sawhorses. But Derek was quicker. He jumped out, and growled at the thing, his teenage beta form doing almost nothing to startle his opponent. But at least he hadn’t seen Cora.

Derek saw Laura stirring a bit in her spot on the ground. _Come on, Laura. Get up._

He jumped high, and kicked the obscene being directly in its bare chest; the remnants of the twin’s clothes were torn and scattered, and clung to parts of their new form. It stammered back a few steps, but Derek knew he wasn’t strong enough.

Before he could dodge it, a set of massive claws tore into the side of his face. He screamed in agony, and was slammed into a nearby wall.

The beast wrapped its hands around Derek’s neck and held him up off the floor. Derek thought this was it. He tried to pull its hands away but the guy was too strong. His legs kicked as hard as he could but it was like trying to hurt a building. His body started to slow down. Even though his mind was racing a mile a minute, his legs went still. His body stopped convulsing; he was no longer gasping for the air that wouldn’t come. All he could do was look this ugly thing in the face as it choked the life out of.

Just as things were going dark, Derek fell to the floor and he was coughing and fighting to draw air into his lungs. His throat burned in a way he’d never felt before, and he could feel popping in his esophagus. His body was healing itself. He soon realized it was Laura that saved him.

She’d latched tightly onto the creature’s back and her fangs sunk deep into its neck. Spurts of thick, dark blood poured out of the wound but she didn’t let up. Derek had never seen her like this. Her face was contorted and ferocious and she wriggled her teeth into the flesh. He hit and clawed and slammed her into walls but she didn’t let up.

Anger became the weapon that brought her enemy to his knees.

There was so much blood that it staunched the room with the reek of rusted metal. Derek could practically taste it. He approached the thing as it stood on its knees, Laura’s fangs still clamped at the jugular. Just as she let up, Derek kicked it again and it fell backward. The cracking of its skull against the hard floor brought Derek a sense of sick relief.

But he should have known by now that nothing good ever lasts.

Cora’s screams for help snapped Derek and Laura’s attention back to the sawhorses. It was Deucalion. His eyes matched the deep ruby of the twins’ blood, and his face was sunken and gray. He was a monster; a force of pure evil from somewhere in one of Derek’s graphic novels. He held their sister by the scruff of her neck as she thrashed and twisted, trying anything to get free.

“Well isn’t this a party?” A menacing voice boomed from deep within his diaphragm.

“Let her go!” Derek said.

“Deucalion, she has nothing to do with this, she’s just a kid!” Laura pleaded. Derek could tell she was terrified and it did nothing to quench the ache in his stomach.

“SO WAS PAIGE!” He screamed.

It was the loudest thing Derek had ever heard from a person. He was starting to lose it. Nothing about this made sense. “We don’t know what you’re talking about, please!” Derek begged. “We don’t know who Paige is, just let her go. Please!” Tears stung at his eyes, and he couldn’t seem to get enough air.

Deucalion became quiet; his eyes searching deep within Derek’s. He looked up to Laura, and back to Derek. His expression grew softer. Less angry. His eyes narrowed as he spoke to Derek.

“They really did a number on you, didn’t they boy?” He chuckled softly. “Will the Hales stop at nothing to keep themselves intact? To keep their reputation so spotless and perfect? TO ERASE THEIR SINS FROM HISTORY?”

No one spoke a word. Deucalion’s demeanor was on the verge of deranged; a ticking time bomb. Derek wanted very much to not light the fuse.

“You may not remember, young Mr. Hale. But you took something from me. Something that can’t be taken back. So I’m going to take something from you. And I’m going to keep taking. And taking. Until there’s nothing left to take.” His claws extended and he rammed them into Cora’s side. Her screams were unlike anything he’d ever heard. They’d completely silenced him; froze him where he stood.

Before he or Laura could make a move toward them he dropped Cora and started screaming in pain. His hands came up to the sides of his head and he thrashed and contorted in pain.

Marin and Dr. Deaton had reached the basement and were chanting in unison, their arms outstretched; an invisible hold on Deucalion.

 

 

Phasmatos superous em animi  
Phasmatos redux redismo sus terra aconitum  
Phasmatos superous em animi  
Phasmatos redux redismo sus terra aconitum

 

 

“What are you doing to me!” Decualion screamed. He stayed writhing on the floor as the spell continued.

Laura immediately ran to get Cora. She picked her up, grabbed Derek’s wrist and three of them were out up and out of the basement the same way they’d gone in.

They took off toward the front door, where Talia had just entered. She was disheveled and bloody, but her wounds were healing right before their eyes.

“Mom!” Derek and Laura shouted.

Laura handed her wounded sister off to her mother who swiftly laid her on the kitchen table. Cora was still crying and screaming, but Derek briefly heard his mother say the wound wasn’t that bad. Somewhere he registered that she had started to take away her pain. He could see the black energy crawling up his mother’s veins, but it wasn’t quite sticking. Thing were moving slower than normal.

He was still sort of out of it. His mind was obsessing over what Deucalion had said.

“You may not remember… but you took something from me.” It was a simple sentence, but the power it held over Derek was immeasurable. He wanted to ask his mother what it meant. Maybe she would have answers for him. But before he could do anything, he collapsed. He felt himself hit the floor and everything went black.

 

 

***

 

 

“What happened next???” Scott exclaimed. He leaned forward across the table in suspense, hanging on Derek’s every word.

“I passed out,” Derek deadpanned. “How should I know?”

Stiles mouth hung open, “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Derek smiled wickedly and sighs of relief broke out across the table.

“That was so not funny,” Stiles commented.

Allison laughed and earned a glare from Stiles. “Oh, come on. It was a little funny.”

“Jesus!” said Cora. “Derek, you’re grounded from storytelling.”

Before he could voice any objections she was picking up where he left off. “What Derek told you earlier about Paige. It was true.”

“Then why didn’t he remember her??” Scott asked intrusively. Cora looked like she used every ounce of restraint to not rip his throat out right then and there.

“We didn’t find out until later that what happened to Paige… Well, it really messed Derek up.”

Derek could feel Stiles’ pity, but didn’t dare meet his gaze. He decided he could live with the holes Stiles’ eyes were burning into the side of his head. But Stiles was one of a kind. He silently moved to the seat next to Derek and grabbed Derek’s hand under the table. Derek still didn’t look at him, but he squeezed his hand gently; a silent way of thanking him for understanding. He didn’t deserve this boy. He never did and he never would.

“It wasn’t just grief, he was experiencing something much more powerful. It started consuming him, so our parents did what they thought was best. Our mother was a very rare type of werewolf. She could transform completely into an actual wolf, unmistakable from a real wolf in every way. It was something that ran in our family. It also came with the ability to tap into the memories of people within our bloodline. With the help of Dr. Deaton and Marin, they erased Derek’s memories. It was powerful magic – Magic that probably shouldn’t have been used for such selfish purposes.”

“So,” Derek began. “ _As with most magic_ , there were consequences.” He hoped that Stiles understood what he was really saying.

“Derek lost some of his supernatural abilities,” Cora said. “Derek could hear a mile away when he was only six years old. He could smell a rabbit from even further. But when you mess with someone’s head, it’s unpredictable what can happen. Sure, he had no memory of Paige, but the spell also dulled his strength, his speed, and his senses.”

“But Derek doesn’t have dulled anything, anymore? Right?” Stiles asked.

“Ew, dude, was that a sex question?” Scott asked with a grimace.

Derek wanted to die right then and there. How could he possibly associate with these two?

“How can you possibly associate with these two?” Cora said incredulously.

“ANYWAY…” Allison was the only reason this conversation hadn’t completely derailed.

“When Marin and Deaton came to save us – in the basement I mean – they did a really complicated spell. They banished Deucalion from our world, trapping him on the other side. Magic that powerful creates disturbances, and the energy from the spell undid the magic that had sealed my memory. When it all came flooding back, my brain couldn’t handle it and I collapsed.” He sipped casually at his coffee as if he weren’t telling them the craziest story they’d ever heard.

Neither Scott, Allison, nor Stiles looked like they knew what to say. They glanced around each other as Derek just sipped at his coffee, preparing for the flood of questions that were bound to be coming his way. He and Cora shared a look, and she smiled softly at him. She was the only one who really knew how difficult this was for him to talk about. Derek was mostly waiting for Stiles to say something – Stiles always had _something_ to say. But instead he just nestled a little closer and leaned his head onto Derek’s shoulder. He could definitely get used to this. Leave it to Scott to ruin the moment.

“So… if all that is true, and Deaton and Ms. Morrell banished him, or whatever, then how did he get out? How is he back?”

Cora and Derek looked at each other and shrugged. “We have no idea,” she said flatly.

 

***

 

It was getting late. Stiles thought it was closer to 11:00, maybe even midnight. He couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the coffee, or maybe he just couldn’t get over the mind-blowing sex he’d just had with Derek. _Was that technically sex?_ Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t quite sure. It definitely felt like sex, but they still hadn’t done _that_. He looked over to see Derek sleeping peacefully beside him; the dim light from the outside lamppost was the only thing keeping the room from complete darkness. Derek’s mouth was slightly open, his head halfway on the pillow and halfway off. Stiles smiled to himself. In the craziness of this day, he had to revel in these small moments.

He scooted slowly out of bed, tiptoed quietly to the door and gently twisted the handle so it wouldn’t creak. Most people think of Stiles as loud, gangly, and incapable of stealth. That was mostly true, but he could be quiet when he needed to be. Growing up with a sheriff as a dad helped him hone in on his ninja skills. He had to be stealthy to sneak in an out of his house all the time.

He made his way to the kitchen to get a glass of water, but froze when there was a pounding at the front door; three loud booms that nearly stopped his heart.

He peeked out the window, and cursed quietly under his breath at what he saw. Against every ounce of his reasoning, he creaked open the door to reveal a beautiful girl with brown skin. Her hand was clamped against a massive wound on her neck, but it was doing little to stop the bleeding. Her face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and was some cross between anger and fear. Stiles thought he also detected a hint of vulnerability. As though she knew she didn’t belong here.

“I need your help,” she said through gritted teeth.

Stiles jaw was set, and his brows were slanted in angry disbelief.

He sighed loudly.

“Braeden…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. I don't even care if there's a few typos, or if the chapter is 4600 words long. I love this chapter and I had a lot of fun writing it. I've been dying for a flashback scene! Consider this chapter the midseason finale of the story. But unlike television, this fic will return wayyy before January. =] And don't worry, the next chapter will definitely scratch the itch you've had for sexy Sterek times.


	15. The Party and the After Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek take advantage of a silencing charm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically just porn. Sue me.

It had been an exhaustingly long day. It felt like years since they’d fought Deucalion and lost. Stiles checked his phone and groaned when he determined it had only been about 10 hours.

He replied to a few texts (one from his dad, one from a kid at school asking if they had homework over break) and wasted time on twitter as he finished his dinner. The pack had ordered pizza once Scott and Allison were awake and deemed to be in decent health. After story time with Derek and Cora, everyone went to bed. Or, at least to their bedrooms. It appeared that Stiles and Derek weren’t the only ones in the house who were a little loud when it came to sex. Scott and Allison seemed to be celebratory of the fact that they were alive.

 _Very celebratory._ And Stiles didn’t even have werewolf hearing.

He finished his cold pizza, shut off the lights, made sure the doors were locked, and went upstairs. Derek had gone up a little while ago to shower and get ready for bed.

He opened the door to Derek’s bedroom and didn’t hear the shower running; the steam and smell of soap in the air told Stiles he’d already finished.

Deaton’s grimoire sat on the nightstand and it gave Stiles an idea. He thumbed through the page he’d read last week on silencing charms. This spell kept the outside world from hearing anything that happened within a five-foot radius of the caster. _Perfect._

He pushed through the slightly-cracked bathroom door and found Derek wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, brushing his teeth.

Stiles would never, ever, in the history of the entire world, no mater what, get tired of looking at Derek Hale. Seriously, never. He literally took away Stiles’ ability to breathe.

His dark hair was still damp and shiny from his shower and had been toweled off quickly, leaving it poking in different directions. When Derek’s eyes met his in the mirror, Stiles first instinct was to look away. Like he was seeing something he shouldn’t be seeing.

“You’re allowed to look at your boyfriend naked, you know,” Derek spoke through a mouth of toothpaste.

“You’re not technically naked,” Stiles said back, meeting his gaze again.

Derek laughed. “All the more reason, then,” he said with a cocky smile.

Stiles walked past him to the second sink and began brushing his own teeth. After a couple minutes of his normal routine, he spit out the suds, rinsed his mouth with water, and smiled stupidly in the mirror. Granted, had he realized Derek was watching him meticulously, he would have forgone that last part. He looked at the older man, and blushed when he recognized the look in his eyes as pure, unabridged lust. It reached Stiles at his core.

Derek quickly closed the space between them, pressing his body flush against Stiles’ until he was backed against the counter. Stiles’ heart was beating so loud and fast he could feel it in his ears. Anytime Derek was close to him like this, he got this rush. He couldn’t really describe it, but it was better than any high he’d ever felt.

Derek’s hands quickly found his ass and he squeezed tightly, lifting Stiles onto the counter. Now they were almost exactly the same height. Derek leaned in but it was Stiles who grabbed the back of his head and pulled him forward for a hungry and desperate kiss.

“God this feels good,” Stiles gasped out between kisses. Derek’s hands were roaming over every inch of him, and his lips were following. He pulled off the shirt that he let Stiles borrow and his hands ran up and down Stiles’ sides. Stiles wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, but it felt really good. He was hard as a rock, and was pretty sure Derek was too.

Derek was kissing him again, and he found that he always closed his eyes when he kissed Derek. He reached out to feel the alphas chest. It was all soft muscle and thick patterns of hair. He roamed his hands over Derek’s torso, making sure to drag blunt nails over his nipples.

Derek let out a light moan and God did he love that sound.

They broke apart for a bit and rested their foreheads against each other, trying desperately to catch their breath. Stiles hands rested against Derek’s ass and Derek’s found their way to the waistline of his boyfriends sweatpants.

“We have a bed, you know,” Stiles panted out.

Derek smiled and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. “Thought you’d never ask,” he said.

He picked up Stiles effortlessly, and he instinctively wrapped his legs around Derek’s waist. They’re kissing became hungry again on the way to the bedroom, but plateaued once Derek laid him flat against the sheets and crawled on top of him.

“You are like. The thing that the guys looked at for reference when they made the statues of the Greek gods,” Stiles said lamely. “That sounded better in my head,” he added.

Derek chuckled and began kissing softly at his neck, his stubble scratching in all the right ways. He trailed down Stiles’ neck, onto his chest.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he said between kisses. Stiles back was nearly arched in ecstasy. His hands were threaded through Dereks hair, holding on for dear life. He hissed when Derek bit gently at a nipple before licking it over soothingly. The scratching of his stubbles pushing buttons that Stiles didn’t even know he had.

When Derek’s mouth made it’s way to Stiles crotch he was biting his lip to prevent him from screaming out. He lifted his head and looked down at Derek as he mouthed against Stiles hard member through his sweats. Derek’s fingers threaded under Stiles’ waistband and he looked up at him, silently asking for permission.

Stiles nodded his head enthusiastically, panting out the words. “Please. God. Yes, Derek, please.”

Derek pulled off the grey pants, careful not to drag them against Stiles dick. Once removed, Derek ran his hands along Stiles’ legs, gently kneading and massaging as he went. His mouth following hotly over the expanse of his thighs. Stiles never knew a massage could feel so good. Then again, he’d never had a naked massage, given by a sexy, naked Derek before. Stiles couldn’t take it anymore, he moved his hand to grab for his dick, but Derek pulled it away.

“This is all mine,” he said hungrily.

“Fuck,” was all Stiles could muster as Derek licked his way from the base to the head of Stiles’ cock. He’d never felt anything as amazing as when Derek opened his mouth a little wider and swallowed Stiles dick all the way down. With his throat full of Stiles, Derek’s hand grabbed onto the packs of muscle in Stiles’ pecs and Stiles screamed out in pleasure; a series of expletives, Derek’s name, and various moans. At this point, all he could do was moan, the English language hadn’t come up with the words to describe being blown by Derek Hale.

As he bobbed up and down with surgical precision, Stiles couldn’t help but buck into his mouth. Derek held down Stiles’ hips and kept going. The hot wetness of his mouth grew tighter as he found a rhythm, sucking in his cheeks and taking Stiles almost all the way down. His hands roamed over every inch of Stiles he could reach. They squeezed at his pecs and thighs and everywhere in between. He liked it best when one of Derek’s hands rested on top of Stiles’ and squeezed gently.

At some point, Stiles’ hands found their way back to Derek’s hair and when the pleasure became too much, he pulled tightly. Derek moaned deeply around his cock and the vibrations brought him to a new level of bliss. “Fuuuuck,” he gasped out.

_Derek likes his hair pulled. Noted._

Every moment of this was better than the last. Stiles was torn between making it last as long as possible and coming right then and there.

Before he knew it, Derek was ghosting over his balls. He fondled them gently at first, then a little rougher, just how Stiles liked it. When Derek took him all the way down to the base of his cock, Stiles could feel the orgasm starting to pool deep under his stomach. The older man’s throat was the best thing that had ever happened to Stiles. Derek’s beard scratched all around his crotch and it stung in the best way.

“Derek,” he panted out. “I’m close,”

But Derek only took that as a challenge. His mouth sucked impossibly tighter and every thrust on Stiles dick was hungrier than the last.

Derek’s dick had to be hard, the way he was nearly dry humping the mattress as he sucked Stiles down. He hadn’t let up once.

“Fuck, Der,” Stiles coaxed. He’d somehow found the ability to speak again.

“Oh, fuck that feels so good,” he said, meeting Derek’s eyes. Derek liked where this was going, and Stiles could tell.

“You’re doing so good, babe. Ah. Fuck. Don’t stop. Fuck, Derek, make me come. Please Der, I’m so close. Feels so good.”

He was losing his words again.

Two more thrusts and he was having the best orgasm of his life. He held onto the back of Derek’s head for dear life as he shot his load into the man’s mouth. He didn’t even know orgasms could feel so good. Derek didn’t let up, he sucked down his come eagerly. It was becoming too much for Stiles to handle. The pleasure was bordering on the line of pain and he let it linger there until he couldn’t take any more. He was squirming in ecstasy and moaning without remorse. Stiles’ hands in Derek’s hair tightened harder than before and only then did Derek take his mouth off of Stiles.

As he pulled off, Stiles sucked in a hissing breath, and drug Derek up to his mouth.

 

***

 

Not a moment before he pulled off of Stiles’ dick was he being dragged up to meet Stiles’ lips. Only, he didn’t need to be dragged. He chased the coaxing hands and crashed against the younger man’s mouth, reveling in the taste of Stiles come mixed with his spit. It was harsh and rough and lips and teeth and tongue were all over each other. His hand snaked around to cup the back of Stiles’ head and he pulled the boy impossibly closer.

“You’re amazing,” Derek said, clearly out of breath. It wasn’t enough. He loved Stiles. Absolutely. 100%. The ‘could never get enough of him’ kind of love. He was more attracted to him than he’d ever been anyone else. Every inch of him. He loved him mouth. His eyes. His hands. _His dick._

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Stiles said lamely. Derek found it adorable.

The flipped over so Stiles was on top of Derek and they made out some more. Stiles reached down to palm Derek’s dick through his boxers and he couldn’t help the moan that escaped from his mouth.

Derek covered his own mouth in embarrassment.

“Silencing spell,” Stiles said as he sucked at Derek’s neck. “Be as loud as you want.”

Derek looked at Stiles strangely for a moment, his head sort of cocked to the side. “God that’s so hot,” he finally said. His boyfriend could do Magic. He was fucking Harry Potter for Christ’s sake.

Stiles straddled Derek for a minute and caught his breath. Derek’s hands instinctively moved to the side of Stiles’ hips and he shifted a little; his dick rubbing against Stiles’ ass. Stiles let out a soft hum. Derek wasn’t sure what the boy was thinking.

Stiles grinded down onto His dick and Derek huffed out another breath. They made eye contact, as Stiles leaned forward again and kissed Derek softly. He trailed the kisses down the alpha’s chest, threading his fingers through the dark hair and pulling lightly. Derek really loved that. His hands roamed up and Down Stiles’ arms and the boy’s mouth moved closer to his dick.

Stiles grabbed at his boxers and he lifted his hips so he could pull them down.

Stiles’ hands ran tentatively up Derek’s muscular legs and stopped near his dick. He was so hard it was leaking precum in a small spot on his abs. Derek’s head leaned up so he could get a good look at Stiles. He felt the boys hands shift, and one of them grabbed at the base of his dick and gave it a few slow pulls.

“Fuck,” he gasped out. “You have no idea how good that feels,” Derek said breathily.

“I’ve never seen an uncut dick in person,” Stiles said, tugging at Derek’s member experimentally. “I mean I got a glance in the shower but, you were doing all the work then,” he chuckled.

His dick was about the same size as Stiles, if only maybe a bit shorter. But it was certainly thicker. And where Derek’s head was more of mushroom shape, Stiles’ was more rounded and smoother.

“Fuck, Stiles,” He breathed out again as the boy planted wet kisses around Derek’s crotch. He tugged slowly at Derek’s cock as his mouth made its way inside Derek’ thighs and at the base of his balls; Stiles licked at sucked everywhere but his cock. And while it all felt good – no, amazing - it was driving him crazy. Stiles licked up the small pool of precum from Derek’s stomach and Derek was in a haze. Warm breath ghosted impossibly close over the head of his Dick and Derek instinctively thrust forward a bit.

“Slow down there, sexywolf. It’s my turn to call the shots.” He leaned forward until he was millimeters away from Derek ear. “And we’re gonna take it nice and slow,” he breathed out.

Derek sighed. He never thought he could be this turned on. He thought maybe Stiles was putting up a front, giving himself a reason to take it slow his first time giving head. Either way, Derek was into it. Stiles telling him what to do was a kink he didn’t know he had.

“Please, fuck, Stiles,” he panted out. The boys long fingers curled around the base of Derek’s cock again and tugged a little harder this time, stretching the foreskin as far down as it could go, revealing the head of Derek’s cock, soaked with more precum than he’d ever made in his life. His hands fisted into the sheets, holding onto anything they could for dear life.

He was fighting against every urge to squeeze his eyes shut. But he wanted to see this. He wanted to commit it to memory. He was practically writhing in place, yearning for relief. For anything more than Stiles was currently giving him. And he loved every second of it.

Stiles’s pace picked up a little bit, and he was now dragging his palms along Derek’s balls. It felt incredible. It was even more incredible when his tongue joined in, lapping a long line from his balls to the head of his dick. Derek was making noises he couldn’t identify. Heavy breaths and moans and grunts. It all felt too good.

Stiles took his hand off Derek momentarily to lick the expanse of his palm and dribble some spit on Derek’s dick. He rubbed it all in, pumping up and down and twisting slightly until he was effectively lubricated.

Derek continued words of encouragement and sounds of pleasure as Stiles pumped at Derek’s cock as he caressed his balls with his tongue.

He guided Derek legs to bend his knees a little for a better angle and really went to work. When Stiles tongue slipped over Derek’s hole he let out a moan that was louder and more raw than any sound he’d ever made.

He looked down at Stiles who smiled hungrily back at him, and licked again, his hand never leaving Derek’s cock.

“Fuck, Stiles. What the-oh fuck! That f-feels so fucking good holy shit where did you learn how to do that.” He couldn’t tell you what he was saying, but the words kept coming.

Derek could feel the patterns of his tongue changing. His cheeks rubbing against the cheeks of Derek’s ass as he went wider and deeper inside. No one had ever done this to him, and he could have never imagined how good it felt.

It felt cold when Stiles removed his tongue, but Derek quickly got over it when he licked a stripe from Derek’s ass to the head of his cock. Stiles pulled back the foreskin and licked tentatively around the head.

Derek’s hips were twitching, and he couldn’t help the need to buck up into Stiles mouth. Fortunately he didn’t need to resist any longer. Stiles grabbed the base of his dick and guided Derek into his mouth. The wet heat brought Derek such relief that he sighed. His hands found their way to Stiles’ messy hair and squeezed gently in encouragement. He choked when he tried to swallow Derek whole, but Derek pulled him off gently and guided him back on.

He brushed past Stiles’ pink lips and felt his tongue swirling around the head.

He could _feel_ Stiles as he tried to hollow out his cheeks and he sucked in a breath when the boy used a little too much teeth.

“Fuck, slow down there Tiger,” Derek coaxed a hand over Stiles’ hair. It didn’t hurt too badly and he didn’t want Stiles to think he wasn’t doing a good job.

For Stiles’ first time sucking a dick, Derek couldn’t really complain. He showed him how to move his lips over his teeth, and was impressed with how quickly he was learning. It felt fucking incredible. What Stiles lacked in experience he made up for in determination. And Derek was certain he was dedicated to getting him off.

It went like that for a while. Stiles would slowly take Derek’s cock into his mouth, doing the most amazing swirl this with his tongue that drove Derek _crazy_. He bit his lips to keep from screaming out. Then he remembered the silencing charm and said _fuck it._

He’d never let loose like this before. As Stiles’ pace quickened and he sucked Derek down further and further each time, Derek found himself letting off expletives and moans and compliments at how good Stiles was.

He felt himself getting close.

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” he huffed out to Stiles.

The boy pulled off of his dick with a popping noise and looked at Derek with the most seductive eyes. Derek wanted to turn him over and fuck him right then and there. But he didn’t. He cared about Stiles.

“Do you trust me?” Stiles said softly, lazily dragging a hand down Derek’s thighs.

Derek couldn’t even speak, so he just nodded.

“Good,” said Stiles. “Now lay back, and close your eyes.”

He wouldn’t have dreamed of doing anything other than what Stiles asked him.

Stiles enveloped his mouth around Derek’s dick again. It was sloppy and wet and _fuck_ it felt good. Derek’s eyes were squeezed shut, and he felt Stiles hands roam their way up his chest. Rubbing at each and every muscle as they went. A hand cupped around Derek’s jaw and Stiles used a thumb to spread open his lips.

There was something about having Stiles’ fingers in his mouth that put the word lust to shame. He sucked them eagerly, slicking them with spit as he circled them with his tongue. It was oddly intimate; they tasted so very much like _Stiles._ He couldn’t get enough of it.

The pulled out, and the next thing Derek knew, a slick finger was rubbing against his hole. Stiles gently coaxed open his entrance and pushed through, and Derek swore he would have let the guy fuck him right then and there.

Stiles continued to suck his dick as he stretched and moved inside Derek. As soon as Stiles found his prostate it was game over. Derek saw stars. He screamed out in pleasure and fisted his hands in Stiles thick hair as he shot a load down his throat. His toes curled up as the orgasm raked through every inch of his body. The tight ring of muscles at his entrance clenched and unclenched around Stiles’ finger and it made for the best orgasm of his life. He couldn’t keep his eyes shut anymore. He dared a glance up at Stiles who was swallowing down as much of Derek’s come as he possibly could but there was too much. He’d kept Derek on edge for too long.

It dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin and the sight alone could have made Derek come for a second time.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he unclenched his fists, and the boy took that as a sign to pull off of him.

He coughed a couple times and wiped the drool and cum off his face and sat back on his legs atop of Derek.

He looked beautiful like that. His eyes were shiny. Lips pink and full, mouth slightly agape. Hair messed up and poking in different directions from where Derek’s hands were.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Derek heard himself say.

Stiles looked down and away at that, and a glow of red crept faintly into his cheeks. “Shuddup. You’re just saying nice shit because you got your dick wet.” Stiles said dejectedly.

Derek leaned up and brought a hand to the back of Stiles head and pulled him in for a kiss. It was wet and Derek could taste his cum in Stiles’ mouth but it was perfect.

“I’m saying nice shit because I mean it,” Derek said. “And I’ll keep saying it. 1000 times a day if I have to. If that’s what it takes to get you to believe it.”

 Stiles didn’t say anything. He just gave Derek a chaste kiss, and nodded his understanding. They pulled on their boxers and curled up together. Derek was asleep in no time.

 

***

 

It was getting late. Stiles thought it was closer to 11:00, maybe even midnight. He couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the coffee, or maybe he just couldn’t get over the mind-blowing sex he’d just had with Derek.  _Was that technically sex?_  Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t quite sure. It definitely felt like sex, but they still hadn’t done  _that_. He looked over to see Derek sleeping peacefully beside him; the dim light from the outside lamppost was the only thing keeping the room from complete darkness. Derek’s mouth was slightly open, his head halfway on the pillow and halfway off. Stiles smiled to himself. In the craziness of this day, he had to revel in these small moments.

He scooted slowly out of bed, tiptoed quietly to the door and gently twisted the handle so it wouldn’t creak. Most people think of Stiles as loud, gangly, and incapable of stealth. That was mostly true, but he could be quiet when he needed to be. Growing up with a sheriff as a dad helped him hone in on his ninja skills. He had to be stealthy to sneak in an out of his house all the time.

He made his way to the kitchen to get a glass of water, but froze when there was a pounding at the front door; three loud booms that nearly stopped his heart.

He peeked out the window, and cursed quietly under his breath at what he saw. Against every ounce of his reasoning, he creaked open the door to reveal a beautiful girl with brown skin. Her hand was clamped against a massive wound on her neck, but it was doing little to stop the bleeding. Her face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and was some cross between anger and fear. Stiles thought he also detected a hint of vulnerability. As though she knew she didn’t belong here.

“I need your help,” she said through gritted teeth.

Stiles jaw was set, and his brows were slanted in angry disbelief.

He sighed loudly.

“Braeden…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I'd be updating more often over the holidays... But I'm a liar. I hope everyone had a good Christmas and I hope you all enjoyed the Sterek. =)
> 
> Sorry if there were a few typos. Let me know what you think! And let me know how you think this thing with Braeden will play out.
> 
> Cheers!


	16. A Girl's Gotta Eat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group confronts Braeden about her unexpected visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I know it has been forever since I've updated, but I do still love this story and plan to finish it. Enjoy!

They were running. God, why were they always running? He followed Scott through backyards and over fences, behind tool sheds and underneath the bleachers. When did they get to the school? And why was his dad there? Why was his dad dressed like Prince? Singing “Darling Stiles?”

“Stilesssss.”

“STILES!”

 

He jolted awake, rubbing sleep from his eyes to find Derek standing over him. He had on his serious face. It was always to early for alpha Derek’s serious face.

“Stiles! What the Hell is going on?” The alpha barked.

“Derekkkkkk,” he whined, pulling the covers back over his face. Things were starting to make sense now. Slowly, like they usually did in the mornings. “Derek. We are sleepinggg.”

The covers were yanked from off of him in a sobering move, and he sat up intensely. He now noticed Scott, staring wide-eyed in the doorway of Derek’s bedroom, watching this interaction unfold. Stiles knew. He knew what the commotion was about. He should have expected this. He should have seen it coming. He did something crazy again without telling anyone. He should really start involving other people in his plans.

“Stiles,” Derek gave an ironic ‘why me’ sort of laugh. “Would you mind telling me why there’s a member of Deucalion’s pack bleeding out on my couch?”

“Shit! She’s bleeding again, I thought we’d gotten it under control??” He flopped out of bed, hopping into a pair of socks that lay discarded on the floor, and throwing on one of Derek’s T-shirts. He brushed past Scott and made his way downstairs, despite Derek’s questiony growls and huffing protests.

He was met downstairs with Braeden, sitting perfectly poised on the couch, with the rest of the pack standing around her. Some looked confused, others just looked angry. Defensive.

Stiles huffed when he learned she was definitely _not_ bleeding out.

“Derekkk!” He yelled to the top of the stairs, “She is _so_ not bleeding out??”

Derek gave him the glare of all glares and Braeden giggled.

“What the Hell is she doing here, Stilinski?” Jackson said.

“Good to see you again, too, Jackson,” Braeden said with a sly smile.

 

Stiles needed coffee. He didn’t get to bed until around 4am. He was tired. And it was early. After Braeden showed up at the door last night – uninvited, might he add – he used a combination of charms and first aid training to patch her up. And it took hours. Deucalion had really done a number on her, and though she really needed a hospital, the brown-eyed girl insisted on lying low. She’d also insisted that Stiles not ask any questions, and that she’d explain everything in the morning.

 

So, Stiles had obliged. Well, he did his best. He actually caught himself asking about a hundred questions, each of which was met with a scowl that could rival Derek’s. When he told her he needed some information, _anything_ that would make him believe she wasn’t here to kill them, she’d made it clear that she didn’t mean anyone any harm. Stiles had always considered himself an excellent judge of character. Thinking back, he was always calling these things way ahead of schedule. He knew there was something wrong with Matt – turned out to be a crazy, stalker psychopath. He knew there was something wrong with Jennifer Blake – turned out to be an evil, druid, psychopath. He _knew_ there was no way Lydia was the kanima – turned out she… wasn’t.

The point is, he had the gut of a future detective, and dammit: he was sticking to it!

 

“She could have murdered us while we slept!” Derek lectured, pacing back and forth in the kitchen where Stiles sat, sipping his coffee with utter nonchalance.

“But did she?” He asked with an eye roll.

“She could have died here!” Derek continued, “And then Deucalion could have taken it as some act of war or something!”

Another eye roll. Another sip of coffee. “But. Did she?”

“You put this entire pack at risk and you can’t even take me seriously! What the fuck is wrong with you??” Derek was mad now, even slamming his fists on the counter.

_Now, it was Stiles turn to be angry._

“You need to calm the fuck down!” He stood from the table and walked closer to Derek. “Did you ever think to ask me – _ask, not scream at_ – if I maybe had a good reason for doing what I did? If maybe I saw something wrong with letting a kid bleed out – and yes, last night she _was_ bleeding out – right in front of me and not do a damn thing about it? Did you maybe consider that I warded the entire living room so she couldn’t leave? That after she fell asleep that I warded the entire house so no one could come OR go? That maybe once she isn’t dying, she could give us some information about Deucalion, his pack, or their plans to come for us. To come for you??” He jabbed a finger into Derek’s chest.

 

Derek looked taken aback. Stiles knew he would. The guy still saw Stiles as a kid. And he wasn’t having it. Not today.

“Stiles, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think –“

“-No, you didn’t think,” the boy interjected. “I’m not an idiot, Derek. And I think I’ve pretty well proven that I would rather die than let anything happen to this pack. Can you say the same?”

He deposited his empty mug into the sink, and walked back toward the living room. “Don’t say anything please,” he said to Derek, who looked like he had a bit more to say. “Not right now. We need to talk to Braeden.”

They reconvened in the living room, where the mysterious girl was still seated on the couch. “The wards were a nice touch,” she said in feigned admiration. “Though, before this Q & A, I’d like to use the little girls room. Been holding it a while.”

“Oh. Right. My bad,” Stiles said, placing a hand on the wall. It glowed with his handprint, and Braeden walked to the restroom. “Thanks, cutie,” she quipped.

“Okay, Stiles, what in God’s name is she doing here?” Lydia asked through crossed arms and raised eyebrows.

“She came to the door last night bleeding really badly,” he explained. “All I could get out of her was that Deucalion clawed her throat and ex-communicated her from his pack.”

“Wait, what time was this? Why didn’t any of us hear her?” Asked Isaac.

Derek and Stiles shared a knowing glance. “Uhm. Well. I had applied a silencing charm to myself last night so that any sound within a 5-foot radius of me didn’t escape…”

“Oh cool! But wait, why?” Asked Scott innocently.

No one dared answer.

“I’ll tell you when you're older,” chimed Erica, who gave Stiles a wink and a nod of approval. Derek looked mortified. Stiles looked toward the ground with a small smile.

“Okay, fine,” said Jackson. “But why didn’t any of us _smell_ her?”

“Yeah, I took care of that, too,” answered Stiles. The wards can be… like… upgraded? I guess? To have different features. No sound. No smell. No coming in or out. No air flow. Everyone inside is invisible to those outside. Etc.”

They all looked at him with blank stares. He found Lydia’s eyes. “Nice.” She said fondly.

 

When Braeden returned from the bathroom the pack began asking her questions, which she answered, much to the surprise of Stiles. Derek listened silently, his eyes searching her over. Stiles suspected he was listening to her heartbeat to check for lies. They learned a lot about her in a short time. Her entire family was killed when she was 11. Deucalion’s doing, of course. But instead of killing her, he adopted her into his pack. It was rare for a non-wolf to be running with Deucalion, but there was a reason. Her mother was Deucalion’s emissary. As it turned out, she no longer wanted to be. Deucalion discovered she was making arrangements with another pack to go into hiding. They were going to help her disappear. When Deucalion found out, he killed them all. Except for Braeden, that is.

“But why?” Asked Stiles. “Why would he leave you alive?”

“Because he’d hoped that since my mother had the spark, that I would too,” she explained. Stiles noticed how her voice changed when she talked about her mother. He noticed because his did too.

“And did you?” Asked Derek.

“Not exactly,” Braeden answered.

“Then why keep you around? Why not kill you?” Derek asked. He appeared to be growing more invested in the story. His eyes searching for the answer to the puzzle.

“Because I was like a daughter to him,” she glared. “And since his was taken from him, I made for a replacement,” she explained, eyes never leaving Derek’s.

“Paige…” he said quietly.

“Bingo, Alpha Derek. And he didn’t exactly keep me around. After my family…” she cleared her throat, “died in a mysterious animal attack… he let me go. I went into foster care. And if any of you know anything about foster care in the state of California, let me just say, not very caring.”

The room grew silent again; Isaac nodded in acknowledgement. Braeden continued speaking.

“Allison, would you care to tell this part of the story?” The girl asked pointedly.

Scott looked confused; he turned toward his girlfriend, sat on the love seat across the room. “Allison? What’s she talking about?”

The girl let out a chuckle. It was laughable really, the preposterousness of the situation.

“My family… We… They fostered Braeden for a while,” she said. She looked utterly overwhelmed. The landslide of information they’d received meant something to different to Allison than it did to the rest of the group. It meant betrayal. Lies. Deceit.

Braeden laughed. “Well… it was a bit longer than ‘a while’ don’t you think? Three years, if I remember correctly.”

Allison nodded silently, mouth slightly agape. She was zoned out, staring at Braeden, but seeing something beyond her. Something far away. A memory perhaps, as intangible as anything could be.

“We. We took you in.” She stood up, knocking Scott off balance. “We treated you like our own. You _were_ our own. You were a sister to me!” In an instant she had crossed the room and held a knife to Braeden’s throat.

Stiles wondered where she even got a knife. Why did the girl _always_ have a knife?

“We trusted you! My father trained you! And you were with Deucalion the whole time? What, did you report back to him everything about us??”

Braeden stayed quiet, but Allison was fuming. Tears streamed down her face. Scott tried to pull her away, but she shoved him with more strength than Stiles realized she possessed.

“Derek, do something!” Scott said.

He answered Scott’s demands with nothing but a glare. He didn’t seem to care if Allison tore the girl apart right then and there. Blood and guts all over the linoleum.

“Allison stop, it wasn’t like that,” said Braden. “I only saw Deucalion once every year or so, when he would find me, check up on me.”

Allison seemed to consider this for a moment, before she backed off, retracting the knife from its place at her carotid.

“Why did you leave?” Allsion asked, sniffling and wiping her face clear of the tearstains.

“Because he found something out about me.”

The room looked at her expectantly.

“Well?? What was it??” Stiles finally said.

Braeden sighed. “While I didn’t inherit my mother’s exact abilities, I did inherit something. I’m a siphon,” she said simply. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

It was Derek who broke the silence this time. “Are you going to tell us what that is?”

“It means she can do magic, but only if she draws her power from another source,” Stiles supplied.

He met everyone’s puzzled looks with an indignant huff. “Look, I’ve been reading about this magic shit for months, okay, quit being surprised when I know things!”

Scott smiled at his friend.

“What would Deucalion want with a witch who isn’t a witch?” Derek asked.

“Woah there, Big Bad. I’m still a witch. Offense taken.”

Derek let out a loud roar, and it was his turn to have Braeden by the throat. “Quit. Playing. Games. With us,” he growled, tightening his grip more and more each time. His fangs and claws were extended and hair began forming at his face.

He finally let go, and the girl choked and gasped for air. Derek was clearly past the point of annoyance and it took everything in Stiles to keep his comments to himself.

“Fine,” she spat out. “Deucalion found that his biggest obstacle for taking down other packs was always their emissary. Even when he was at his strongest, he can only do so much against a witch. That’s where I came in. I’d stumble across a pack, sometimes days, sometimes weeks before Deucalion planned to attack, and I’d play the hurt, lost, little girl. They’d take me in. I’d gain their trust. Then I’d siphon their emissary of their powers and disappear. Leaving them defenseless for Deucalion to… do what he does best.”

 

“Murder them,” piped up Danny from the back of the room. Stiles had almost forgotten he was there. “You mean murder them, don’t you? Rip them apart, piece-by-piece? Mothers? Children?”

The girl said nothing, simply rolled her eyes and began to examine her nails.

“What is wrong with you?” Asked Allison. “How do you live with yourself?”

Braeden scoffed, before replying with the most simplest of statements that Stiles had ever heard.

 

“A girl’s gotta eat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked it well enough! I'm working on wrapping up this story and may have an idea or two for my next one, so stay tuned if you like what you see. As always, let me know in the comments what you guys thought! =]


	17. The One with the Pack Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack tries to come up with a plan on how to defeat Deucalion. Drama ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, and I'm sorry for that! Enjoy a small little chapter as I make the final plans for this installment. =]

“I can’t think of a single way this doesn’t end badly,” Derek said indignantly. Stiles knew that if eyes could be sprained from rolling them too much, _his_ _would be_.

“Good thing you have me around to make the plans,” the boy chirped. He wasn’t yet ready to let onto to the fact that he, in fact, did not have a plan. He didn’t even have a “pla.”

The pack discussed their options for a few hours. They had unique ways of carrying on conversation between only a few people at a time, while everyone came and left at their own leisure. Lydia, Jackson, and Derek would talk while Stiles and Scott made a sandwich for lunch. Allison and Scott would disappear out back for a while. Boyd and Erica would watch the news. Danny and Stiles and Derek spoke about an attack while Braeden sipped her coffee, stirring in some sugar with a fork from the table. Lydia and Allison would ask Braeden questions about the house Deucalion and Theo were staying in. Stiles would lean against Derek’s shoulder on the couch; occasionally kissing him on the cheek or gently squeezing his hand affectionately. Jackson mostly provided reasons that a given plan would not work. As much as it irritated Stiles, he couldn’t deny the benefit it held. After all, if Jackson could think of a fallacy, so could Deucalion.

 

***

 

Derek was also at a loss for ideas, but found himself revisiting the question: What would Laura do?

He’d give anything to talk to her again, in whatever kind of weird mind space he had only a day ago. He was taken from his thoughts every time Stiles shifted a little on the couch next to him. He’d never admit it, but he loved being close to Stiles, holding his hand. His heart fluttered a bit when Stiles’ thumb traced over his knuckles. A formidable voice drew his attention away from his boyfriend.

“Did you say something about Laura?” Lydia asked.

“Hm?” Derek looked up, confused expression on his unshaven face.

“You were mumbling,” supplied Lydia. “You said you wanted to talk to Laura. What did you mean?”

Stiles’ head looked back and forth between Derek and Lydia, his eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape. He was such a dork. Derek really loved him.

“I’m not really sure,” Derek said honestly. It was true. He really wasn’t sure what happened at all.

“Yeah… I’m gonna need more than that,” demanded the strawberry blonde.

Derek sighed. He should have known that no one got off that easily with Lydia Martin around. His eyes scanned back and forth, looking at nothing in particular, but trying to recall what happened yesterday. “Uh. I was at the park,” he began. “You guys were fighting Deucalion, but I didn’t know it yet. Something happened, and all of the sudden Laura was there too. On the bench, sitting right next to me.”

“Okay,” Cora interjected. “Well I can verify that no one was sitting next to you on the park bench.”

Lydia stood up from her chair and began pacing. She appeared to be deep in thought but Derek supposed he didn’t really know her well enough to be sure. Just as he moved to say something, Stiles put a finger up to his mouth. He held up a hand and shook his head briefly from side to side as if to say ‘Nah - just let her to do her thing.’

After a moment or two, the girl stopped her pacing, straightened up, cleared her throat and took a breath. “Okay.”

There was a long pause and Stiles seemed to be literally sliding off the edge of his seat.

“Derek,” she began. “I believe you did see Laura.”

There was another long pause and now Derek seemed to be the one who was at the edge of his seat.

“Well??” He finally said, though it actually came out as more of a scream. She cleared her throat again.

“While you were at the park, having some leisure time, probably sipping Mai Tais, we were here fighting for our lives.”

Derek deadpanned. “Thanks Lydia, I hadn’t realized that before now so thank you. What would I ever do without your profound insight?” That earned a giggle from Scott and Jackson, but it was shut down with a fierce glare from Lydia.

“Anyway,” she scoffed, “Stiles was also performing some really serious magic-“

“-impressive, by the way,” interjected Scott, sporting a dopey smile.

“Aw, thanks buddy!” Stiles replied.

Now Derek was the one rolling his eyes.

Lydia ignored the boys’ high five and continued. “As I was saying. Magic of that caliber is heavy stuff. It takes energy from both the user and the environment around him. You even needed my blood for the spell.” Derek felt stiles tighten up a bit next to him. He instinctively wrapped an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder and pulled him in a little tighter. If Lydia noticed, she didn’t say anything.”

“Spells of that magnitude have been known to actually rip a hole in the very plane of existence we live upon. I hadn’t even considered it a possibility before, because Stiles is a novice when it comes to magic.”

“Hey?!” Stiles said.

“No offense,” she supplied.

Derek was growing tired of this story being interrupted, even if Stiles was the one to blame for the interruptions. “Lydia, get to the point!”

“The lore states that if our veil is ever torn, beings from other planes can enter our own.”

The room grew silent. Everyone seemed to be pondering what this information actually meant. Jackson was the first to speak up.

“So you're telling us… Stiles’ voodoo shit was so strong that it opened a portal to a ghostly, otherworldly dimension, and Alpha Balto’s dead sister came through and had a chit-chat. All while I was getting my ass kicked by some RayBan-wearing douchebeta?”

“Why am I friends with you?” Danny sighed.

 _Why is my pack like this?_ Derek thought.

“Yes, Jackson,” Lydia said. “That’s more or less exactly what I’m saying.”

“And it’s _impossible,_ ” Braeden said as she crossed the room to examine Stiles. He backed into the couch as she came too close for Derek’s comfort. “There is no way that this _little boy_ could perform magic that strong, he would be dead! The spirits would not allow it!”

Derek was standing in front of Stiles before he could think, his claws extended at Braeden’s carotid. “Unless you want to reopen some old wounds, you need to back up. Three steps. _Now!”_ He growled, eyes glowing red. He could smell the adrenaline and fear seeping out of every one of his packmates. Everyone, that was, except the girl in front of him. Derek would be lying if he said that didn’t scare him a little. She did as she was told, but she did it with respect, not fear. The way you would fetch a glass of water for an older relative at a family gathering.

“Sorry there, mama bear. Didn’t mean to threaten your cub,” Braeden cooed.

Derek growled again, snarling a fanged bite in her direction.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered from behind him, standing to place his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. Stiles gently rubbed along his back and across his side, and Derek was surprised how much more relaxed he felt. He sat back down; puling Stiles back down into the couch as well. He shifted out of his beta from as the girl continued.

“I’m just saying, there are only a handful of witches in the world who can pull of that kind of magic and most of them are dead. My mother included.”

“Well how do you know that Stiles isn’t one of those witches?” Isaac asked. Derek knew the boy didn’t say much, but he felt a fondness for him – especially when he stuck up for Stiles.

Braeden scoffed coyly. “Because, Isaac,” She said. “I’m a siphon. I sense the magical energy of witches and I siphon it out of them. I can feel Stiles energy, and I gotta say: close, but no cigar.”

“Can you be serious for even a minute??” Lydia said in disbelief.

“Lydia’s right,” Stiles said. He stood up and walked closer to Braeden. “But there might be more to this than you think.” He untucked a necklace from inside his shirt and held it forward to Braeden. “Deaton gave me this when we first started training. He said it would keep my energy from going haywire. I guess newer witches can sometimes have random magical outbursts. He said it would keep it in check. I keep it on me all the time. In a pocket, backpack, and since yesterday – around my neck.”

Braeden stepped closer and held the necklace in her hand. It was a small vial, filled with some greenish herbs, small pebbles, and some liquid from what Derek could tell.

“Well, well, well,” Braeden said, looking at the object in fascination and awe. She peered back up at Stiles, whose expression was unreadable. “Looks like you’ve got some mithril on your chest, little hobbit.” She pulled on the vial, the thin leather twine that bound the necklace snapped like a twig. Derek was on his feet in an instant, as was the rest of the pack.

“No, it’s okay, it’s okay,” stiles said with outstretched arms. “She’s not gonna hurt me.”

The dark-haired girl sucked in a deep breath as she dropped the broken necklace to the ground. Her eyes fluttered shut as a wicked smile grew across her face. “Looks like I was wrong about you, cupcake. You’ve got the goods, after all.”

“Okay,” Stiles said, but what does that me-“

Before he could finish, she’d grabbed Stiles by the shirt and pulled him instantly into a chokehold. She stood behind him, her left arm wrapped tightly around his neck as her right hand held a fork tightly against it.

Stiles screamed out in shock, his voice constrained against the siphons arm. “What are you doing? I helped you!” He choked out.

“Now you’re helping me again,” she whispered seductively in his ear.

Derek was paralyzed at the scene in front of him. He couldn’t take her down without risking her hurting Stiles. “Let him go!” He heard himself growl out at her.

“Don’t worry everyone, I’m just gonna take Stiles’ magic off his hands and be on my way. No one _needs_ to get hurt but I’m not making any promises.”

Derek watched as the veins in her arms turned a haunting purple, and crept up toward her shoulder like his did when he took used his abilities to take away someone’s pain.

“Sorry about this, cutie,” she said, kissing Stiles cheek. “It really isn’t personal.”

She whispered something in Stiles’ ear that Derek didn’t catch. In an instant, a piercing white light burned into his eyes and a cloud of thick smoke filled the room. The packs coughs and chokes were all Derek could hear in his own disorientation. Someone had opened the patio door and some windows and as the smoke cleared he saw Danny and Lydia hovering over Stiles limp body. His eyes were shut and his mouth hung open.

His stomach jumped into his chest and he was frozen in place. His voice was hollow and caught in his throat as he said the only word that mattered to him.

 

“Stiles...?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, let me know what you think in the comments! I really went overboard on the pop culture references in this one, but I was having fun and thats all that really matters, right? Oh, and if you really like the fic, tell your friends! =]


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